


Planet of Triumph

by bookscape



Category: Lost in Space (TV 1965)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 44,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscape/pseuds/bookscape
Summary: The family thinks all is well on their idyllic new home on Gamma in the Alpha Centauri system, until John is kidnapped by an old enemy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Gamma

John Robinson stared upward as the deep blue-violet sky of sunset turned into a black velvet carpet sprinkled with innumerable points of light. It never ceased to amaze him, the numbers and brightness of celestial bodies visible from Gamma. The moon wouldn’t rise for another three hours, and he realized that, perhaps, his timing for training with Max wasn’t the best. During the six months they had been on their new home, John had not missed a night of stargazing, except during inclement weather. 

On Earth, computers had clarified what was lost in the night sky due to atmospheric impurities, but here there were no such impurities. There was no pollution, no ozone depletion, no factories, just the pristine clarity of air, water and soil. “Professor Robinson, would you care to postpone tonight’s training?” 

“No, Max. I just had to take a moment. I’m ready.” He brought his focus from the stars above to the inner workings of his own mind and body. The c.lir form of martial arts had fascinated him the moment Max had suggested it several months earlier. He only wished the robot has suggested it sooner, especially during their stay on ssMrillorrin. He expressed that thought as he pulled off his outer shirt. 

“Professor Robinson, I believe I did suggest it, but at the time, you told me, in so many words, to go lubricate myself.” 

“Oh, yeah, I vaguely remember that. Uh, sorry, Max, I was slightly irascible then wasn’t I?” John commented, somewhat embarrassed. 

“Professor, may I assume that you are using what humans call understatement?” the robot asked. 

“All right, Max. Shall we begin?” Standing quietly in the clearing, with eyes closed, John let his mind focus on what was in the immediate range of his other senses. He heard the night noises of the primate tree dwellers, several insects and one night avian. The gentle caress of the breeze, the heady aroma of glow flowers mixed with the subtle scent of recently turned earth; all were noted and registered in a very short time. Maureen’s presence near the perimeter of the camp was noted as well. This form of martial arts was well suited to the slight telepathic skill that he possessed. And it helped take the place of the periodic loss of the flutter-dragons when they returned to their home planet for training. 

Satisfied, John turned his focus internal, feeling the beating of his heart, the flow of air in and out of his lungs, the relaxation, yet readiness of his muscles. And he was ready when Max attacked. A slight tensing, tightening, flexing of the muscles in one leg, allowed him to dance to one side with a minimum of effort. Opening his eyes, he made his next move before they had totally adjusted to the darkness. He didn’t need to take that time; he knew exactly where his opponent was and was waiting for him. 

As he rushed by, Max grabbed the professor’s arm, but John had rightly judged his balance and momentum, and, with a slight twisting movement, angled toward the robot. Almost immediately, John pushed away from his opponent, using Max’s body as a springboard. He hit the ground on his right shoulder, realizing that he had overcompensated and used too much force to push away from the robot. Continuing in a rolling somersault, John jumped lightly to his feet, pivoting, and dashing back toward Max. 

The robot, in a similar fashion, jumped out of John’s reach. They quietly circled each other, looking for openings. Occasionally Max dashed in, grabbing at him, and at times he advanced on the robot, but for a long time neither found the opening they were looking for. John felt the action of his muscles and was pleased. The steady rhythm of his heart and lungs told him that Max’s training was benefiting him, in that he had better stamina, strength and agility. 

Max lunged at him and John ducked, going into a crouch and using both hands to grab one of the robot’s legs. Instead of pulling the robot toward him, John pulled himself closer to the automaton and grappled Max with both of his legs, causing him to fall forward with a crash. As the robot toppled to the ground, one of his metallic feet clipped John on the shoulder. The professor felt a momentary stab of pain, but a quick inner examination showed nothing broken. 

“Professor Robinson. I believe that conditioning and cool down exercises are in order now. You have done very well tonight,” Max said as he heaved himself off the ground. 

John felt Maureen’s arms circling his waist. “I still don’t know how you were able to do that, but it was marvelous to behold, darling. Are you ready to run?” 

“Yes, joining me tonight?” 

“I can do with a bit of running. I used to be in track back in New York, you know,” Maureen said with a laugh. 

“I know, you chased me ‘til I caught you,” John laughed, lightly holding the hands that pressed against his midriff. 

“Be easy on me, dear heart. I have just begun this,” she reminded him, laughing along with him. Turning and leaning down, he kissed her before they began. They circled just outside the bright glare of the perimeter lights several times before Maureen called it quits. John ran one more lap and noticed Will standing beside his mother. 

“Dad?” 

“Yes, Will,” he answered, taking the towel out of his son’s outstretched hand. 

“There’s something on the short range scanner that I thought was interesting,” the youngest Robinson informed him. 

“Let’s go in and take a look, then,” John said. Soon they were standing near the scanner, watching the strange signal oscillating in strength, but never wavering in its location. “It’s fixed. Do you have a location, son?”

“Near the north-west rim, Dad. It began about an hour ago. Occasionally it quits, but only for very short intervals.” 

“That bears checking out. Definitely mechanical in origin,” John murmured, checking out the various readings. “Wonder if it’s something left over from Gamma’s previous inhabitants?” 

“And something just now set it off?” Will ventured, slightly skeptical.

“Mmm, could be. We do have occasional tremors and there are plenty of animals capable of tampering with mechanical devices. We know that by experience,” John mused. “How about a hike tomorrow, son?” Will beamed his pleasure.

“If you two are going to be traipsing off into the hills, you need to get to bed early,” Maureen stated. 

“May I go, too?” Penny asked, her dark hazel eyes plaintive. “Will got to go on the last exploration.” 

“That may be true, dear, but you still aren’t over that cold yet. You are not about to go hiking until you’re well,” Maureen said quickly, her voice indicating the finality of her pronouncement.

“Penny, your mother is right. But if you are pronounced well enough, you can go with me on the aerial survey in a day or two,” John said good-naturedly, giving his youngest daughter a wink. Penny’s smile broadened and she gave her dad a great hug. 

“And I agree with your mother. You need to get to bed as soon as the equipment is gathered for our hike,” John told Will. With Max’s help, that was quickly accomplished. 

“What are your theories, my dear,” Maureen asked later, as the couple sat on a blanket, outside the reach of the camp lights, but well within the range of the force field. A mild breeze caused her to shiver and huddle closer to John. Obligingly, he put his arm around her and held her tight against his side. A slight thrill coursed through his body and he leaned over to kiss her tenderly. After more than twenty-five years, she still made him feel young and alive, full of passion and desire. The love that he had felt on their wedding day was nothing compared to what he felt now. Turning slightly, he placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her fiercely. Ignored were the stars, the night creatures, her question, and, at a discreet distance, Max who had been checking the settings of the forcefield. 

Some time later, they lay side by side, her head on John’s shoulder, in comfortable silence, watching the myriad of stars twinkling and pulsating above them. Maureen murmured, “I vaguely remember laying on a blanket like this when my family went into the Finger Lakes region in New York to stay at our summer cabin.”

“Who was the lucky fellow?” John asked evenly, a humorous note in his voice. 

“John! I was only five,” she replied, thumping him on the shoulder.

“I know, but you said, ‘like this,’ ” he explained, laughing. She joined in. 

“After I moved to California to live with Colleen, we would sometimes go camping in the Sierras. I would do the same thing, lie on a blanket and watch the stars. It was difficult at first, because all I could remember was watching stars with my parents and that hurt. Remembering.”

“I know, darling,” John murmured, leaning over and kissing her tenderly, knowing how much, after all these years, the loss of her parents in that plane crash still made her grieve.

“I learned quite a few of the constellation’s names that way.” Maureen paused and then pointed. “Look, John. See that set of stars. They look almost like a bird in flight.”

“Or a zanling,” he added. 

“Well, dear, we have named our first Gamma constellation. The Zanling. I wonder how our darlings are doing?” she asked. 

“Having a blast going to leadership conventions, learning diplomacy and xenological relations,” John answered wryly. “Look, there’s one that vaguely looks like the Jupiter, see the line of bright stars near the bottom?”

“Why, it does,” she said. “The Zanling and the Jupiter. We’ll have to come out and name one or two each night.” 

“What are my theories on what?” he suddenly asked after several moments’ pause.

“Theories? Oh, my question. On that signal that Will picked up.”

“Probably just exactly what we think it is; an old device left here by the previous inhabitants, or a visitor,” he guessed. “We’ll find it, turn it off and then bring it in for later examination. It will give the Robot something to do.”

They lay quietly in comfortable silence, cuddling closer as the temperature dropped, then watched a few meteorites streak across the sky before gathering up the blanket and heading up the ramp of the Jupiter to the closeness of their small cabin. They had found that if one waited late enough, the meteor showers on Gamma were as spectacular as the stars. 

The next morning, Maureen had a veritable feast laid out when John and the rest of the family gathered around the dining table. Rock bird eggs were complimented with potato-like tubers, which had been cut and hash-browned. Replicated pancakes and greenberry jam sat invitingly in the middle of the table, while the steam of fresh coffee or chocolate wafted gently above each person’s cup. “It was a bit chilly this morning,” was Maureen’s only explanation when questioned about the large breakfast. “And besides, it’s going to be a busy day.”

John just laughed and reached for the potatoes. “Will and I are just hiking up the northern rim, not going on a twenty mile excursion, my dear. And besides, if we ate all this, we wouldn’t be able to walk out of camp, much less climb a slope,” he quipped. “By the way, Don, I think the day after tomorrow will be a good time to do an aerial survey of the south sector. The new colonists will be arriving within a month and it would be a good idea if we had all the surrounding areas mapped out. Not to mention that Alpha Control is clamoring for more information on this planet.” 

“Let them clamor. We’ve been busy,” Don commented acerbically. “And if we haven’t been busy,” he added, seeing John’s sardonic glance, “it’s because we earned a well deserved respite from anything even remotely resembling a fast pace.”

“No argument there,” John agreed, sipping his coffee. A few minutes later, he got up and headed toward the cargo bay. “I’ll carry our supplies outside, Will. Don’t take too long with breakfast.” Excited, Will gulped the last bites of food on his plate and jumped up, running after his father.

Mark slid out of his high chair and toddled after his grandfather, occasionally falling on his bottom with a thump, but quickly getting back up to his feet. John sensed his approach and scooped him up. “Well, big man, take care of the girls while I’m gone. And keep that dad of yours out of trouble.” A laugh floated out from under the chariot. Mark hugged John and held on tight even when Judy tried to pull him off. As the two adults peeled the toddler off, he fussed and a tear crawled down the chubby cheek. His tiny zanling chirped sadly.

“Daddy, you have spoiled him rotten,” Judy teased, giving her father a quick kiss.

“I know.” Ruffling his grandchild’s hair, he said, “I’ll be back tonight, you little scamp.”

Soon the pair was walking toward the northern rim of low mountains, the morning sun warming them in the slightly chill air.


	2. Endings

The air was crisp, but not too cold and the hikers made good time. “Do you have a fix on that signal, son?” John asked, pausing a moment to shift his backpack. 

“It’s coming in pretty steady, Dad, and it hasn’t changed position since it began.” 

The rockbirds swooped and dived all around as the two humans passed by their nesting ground, squawking loudly and clacking their bills. Knowing they wouldn’t actually make physical contact, John and Will just ignored them and continued up the slope. “That one has a nest by that rock,” Will commented, pointing to the leathery-headed bird staring morosely at them from a nearby boulder. 

“Oh?” John asked. 

“Didn’t you pick up on that? It’s easy to get things from the mind of a rock bird, if you focus on them,” Will said.

“No, son. To be honest with you, I haven’t really used much telepathy since we’ve been here. It’s not been challenging or fun like it is for you and Penny,” John explained, not sure he understood totally himself. All he did know was that his abilities seemed greatly tied to the presence of the flutter-dragons, especially since his experience with the kenno flame crystals. It was as though the crystal had leeched a bit of his ability. “Of course, that doesn’t apply to your mother. I believe she was able to read my mind, even before all this happened.”

“Oh, but you still have a powerful shield,” Will reassured him and then stopped, chagrined at his disclosure. 

“Been trying to eavesdrop again?” John asked, smiling. “I was told by Gilbrolen that I was a powerful defensive telepath. That, apparently, is my skill. I am less than mediocre with any other form of telepathy.” He paused, pondering, striding steadily up the path. “Do you realize that two years ago, this conversation would have been non-existent? A lot has happened.” 

Hill oxen scrutinized them from a safe distance, finally snorting and lumbering away as the two humans approached. Will said nothing, alternating watching the trail and the animals. Gamma had been like a utopia to him, with opportunities to study and catalogue the myriad of animals, minerals and plants. It was home. ‘It’s wonderful here, Dad. I’m glad we made it.’

John gazed at his son. ‘I am, too, Will.’ Then he began laughing. “You are determined aren’t you?”

“But you heard me. You still have it, Dad,” Will said, pleased with his subterfuge. 

“Yes, Will, I guess I still do,” John acquiesced, not wishing to dispel his son’s enjoyment. 

They topped the ridge and had just begun descending when Will indicated that they were near the source of the signal. “It’s near here somewhere, Dad, but I don’t see anything unusual.”

Looking at the indicator, John made a few adjustments. “It seems to be hidden, as though in a cave. Looking at these formations, I don’t doubt there are many caves here. Let’s explore a bit before taking a lunch break.” Following the device in Will’s hands, they soon found themselves at the entrance of a crevice along the boulder-strewn hillside. Pulling a flashlight out from his backpack, John shined its light into the crevice. 

“There’s no animals in there. Do you want me to go in? I’m smaller,” Will suggested. 

“No, Will, let me check it out.” The entrance was narrow and John had to turn sideways to allow his shoulders through the tight opening. After a bit of manipulating, he finally got through and shined the light around the small cave. Near the back of the room, the professor saw another opening, a bit bigger one this time. Cautiously he entered, shining the light before him. The second room was even smaller than the first, the ceiling being just barely taller than he was. John felt closed in, but as he shined the flashlight on the floor, he sucked in his breath in surprise. Most of the floor space was non-existent, a great hole of blackness that had the appearance of a gaping mouth. He controlled an involuntary shudder of fear as he turned back to the outside of the cave. 

“The device is in a pit inside the cave. I’ll go down and check, you keep an eye on the indicator and the communicator. Probably it would be best for me to just find our mysterious device and bring it up to examine it in the light,” John explained to his slightly disappointed son. “Will, there have been some tremors since we’ve been here, and I’d feel better if you were out here,” he added gently, squeezing his son’s shoulder affectionately. It amazed him how fast his son was growing, soon he would be a man. He hoped for his children’s sakes, this little colony grew quickly. He would like to see more than just Judy starting a family. 

With a sigh, he pulled out the nylon rope and fixed one end in a noose-like loop. “As soon as I reach the bottom, I’ll contact you. Keep the communicator open,” he instructed. Will nodded. Picking up the indicator, John reentered the cave, and tying off the rope, slowly repelled down the side of the cavity. He shuddered at the memory of other caves; other unknowns.

Will watched Dad enter the cave and wished he could go with him. After a while, the communicator buzzed.

“Made it down in one piece. No problem,” his dad’s voice came strongly over the communicator after what seemed an eternity of waiting. 

“Great, Dad. What’s it like?” 

“It’s dark, son,” Dad said sardonically. 

Will chuckled. 

“But seems to be roomy enough down here. Sometime later we’ll have to explore it. Has the look of having been enlarged. It doesn’t look totally natural,” his dad added. 

“Do you think anyone is still down there?” Will asked, and then mentally kicked himself for bringing up such a potentially dangerous thought. 

“Umm, thanks for that reassuring possibility. But no, I don’t think so,” the voice on the communicator replied. There was a long pause punctuated with the slight sounds of footsteps on loose gravel.

“Believe I’ve found it. I see a glint of metal. Yes, it’s slightly box-like, doesn’t look terribly old, but you never can tell the age of things left in caves. Several dials, switches and gauges,” he said, his voice carrying a slightly excited tone. “I’m going to dispense with the commentary and just bring it up. This place makes me a bit nervous.”

“Okay, Dad. I’ll be waiting. I’ll let them know on the Jupiter that we’re okay.”

“Good idea.” 

As he keyed the communicator to the spaceship, he heard a slight noise from his dad’s communicator and then… “Will!” Then there was a split second of silence, followed by a trembling of the earth that changed into an ominous rumbling. It seemed to echo until Will realized that he was hearing the same thing through the communicator. Suddenly, the sounds from the communicator were shut off. 

“Dad! DAD!” Will shouted. “DAD!” 

“Will! What’s going on?” Don shouted over the Jupiter’s communicator. 

“Don, there’s been an earthquake or cave in, and Dad’s trapped in a cave. I don’t have a flashlight and his communicator isn’t working. I can’t get him!” Will cried out.

“Stay put, Will. I’ll be there in the jetpack. Keep trying to raise your Dad and we’ll do the same on this end. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.” Will heard anxiety in the pilot’s voice, but couldn’t get any comfort from his final words. Going just inside the entrance, he shouted out, hoping that Dad could hear his voice. Groping, he found the other opening, and getting down on his hands and knees, felt his way to the pit his dad had talked about. 

“Dad!” he shouted, only hearing his voice echo back up to him. He kept shouting; shouting and praying, shouting until his voice was hoarse. Inside, he felt same gut wrenching despair he had felt when his dad had fallen off the cliff on Ugorimm. “Dad! Dad…” his voice whispered hoarsely. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Don’s illuminated face staring down at him, and then looking over his shoulder toward the stygian blackness of the pit. 

The pilot examined the rope that his dad had used. Pulling it up, he examined the end. It showed no signs of damage. “I’m going down. Here, I brought another flashlight. You keep an eye on the rope up here, while I look for your dad.”

“Be careful, Don,” Will whispered. 

“I will, sport.” 

Soon Don had gone beyond the beam of his flashlight and all the boy could see was the bobbing action of the pilot’s light. Looking down, Will realized that he had the communicator clutched in his left hand; clutched so tightly that his fingertips were numb. 

“I’m at the bottom, Will. No sign of a rockslide or of your dad. I’m going in…” There were the same type of shuffling sounds that the boy had heard before, then, “Will, there was a rockslide. I can’t go any further. I’ll have to get some equipment down here. I’m coming up.”

Outside the cave, Don took all non-essential equipment off the jetpack and piled it inside the cave. “We’ll get it later, the thing now is to get back to the Jupiter and bring back the tools we need to get rid of those rocks. Get on back.” 

Will complied silently, his mind numb. Don fired up the rockets and they floated gently up into the air, causing rock birds to scatter in all directions. The major thought about what he had seen in the cave and wondered if what he had proposed would be of any use, then determined that it didn’t matter. They had to do all they possibly could to find John. 

Maureen rushed up to him as he landed, Judy and Penny not far behind. “Don, what did you find?” she asked anxiously, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

“I found a rock slide. I’m going to get some tools and go back up there. I think it might be a good idea for you to bring the chariot with more equipment. I might need more firepower than I can carry on the jet pack,” he explained. 

“Is it that bad, Don?” Maureen asked, her voice tight.

“Yes, I’m afraid it looks to be a pretty solid rock fall, but I have no intention of giving up. Will seemed to think that John had gone in a fair distance and this fall was close to the bottom of the pit. He’s probably safe on the other side,” Don said encouragingly. 

“I’m going with you, too, Mom,” Penny declared. Maureen gazed at her for a moment and then nodded. Then she nodded to Will as he was about to make the same declaration. 

“Judy, I know we could leave the robots to take care of the Jupiter, but with that ship load of colonists coming in soon, we need someone here to monitor things,” Don told his wife gently. 

Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. Mark started crying softly and she bent down to pick the toddler up. “I understand, dear,” she murmured. “Please let me know what is going on.” 

“I will, Princess. Everything will turn out all right,” he said, taking Judy in a tight embrace. Mark grabbed him around the neck with his chubby arms, his sobs turned into hiccups. 

“Take care of Mommy, my little prince,” he murmured into the baby’s ear, then he walked into the Jupiter’s lower deck. Within a half an hour he was airborne, various tools attached to the jetpack. 

Maureen watched her son-in-law go, and then turned to directing the children in the loading of the chariot. Her chest was so tight, it hurt; her mental anguish so powerful, she felt almost feverish. When would it end, this pain? They had finally reached what she had thought to be their Eden only to have it ripped away.  


Soon everything she could think of was loaded. She hugged Mark and Judy, who murmured words of encouragement; words that seemed hollow to her, then she climbed into the chariot and started up the hill.


	3. Max Investigates

Maureen’s thoughts vacillated from deepest despair to hope to overwhelming sorrow as she drove the chariot up the slope. To John’s tomb? No, have to keep hope. John had nearly died once before and had returned to her. It was possible; it had to be. 

“Mom, do you think we’ll find Daddy in time?” Penny asked, her voice catching in a tiny sob. 

Have to be strong for the kids, she kept thinking to herself. Why the hell should she be strong? Why couldn’t she give way to her feelings? Maureen wanted to scream, to wail, but she had to be strong. Had to be…. “Yes, Penny, I do. We have to keep believing,” she said in a voice that was only just louder than the humming of the chariot’s engine. Penny sat back in her seat with a sigh. The child’s thoughts were an emotional nightmare, as, she supposed were hers. Will was shielding his thoughts well enough that Maureen couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she could surely guess. 

“Maureen,” Don’s voice came over the communicator. “I am back in the cave and am able to move more of these rocks, but it’s going to take time. This is one big cave in. As soon as you get here, send that probe down and I’ll see if I can pick up anything.”

“All right, Don,” she answered. “Our e.t.a. should be less than a half-hour. Please be careful.” 

“I will, Maureen.” 

*****

“Why did you not volunteer to go with Mrs. Robinson?” Robot asked in an almost accusing voice. “You are mobile enough to have gone down and worked on clearing the rock slide.”

“There are things to consider in this incident that I wanted to ponder,” Max replied enigmatically. “Do you have a recording of the communication between Will and Professor Robinson?” 

“Affirmative,” Robot answered. “What is your purpose for wanting them?” 

“I may have a need to check them out. Please make sure they are kept safe. I seem to remember Prof. Robinson asking you to keep the records of the recent earth tremors and other natural phenomena. Was that done?” 

“Of course it was done. I was asked to do it and I am meticulous in performing my duties,” Robot intoned almost indignantly. 

“Of course, my pardons. There was no intent to undermine your credibility,” Max said. 

“What is your purpose for asking?” Robot asked, mollified, but still curious of Max’s illogical behavior.

“There is a slight possibility that I might need to look over the data. At present, I do not have enough factual information to make any suppositions. I will be certain to let you know of my theories as soon as I do. As to the other reason I did not go with Mrs. Robinson, I can get to the site of the rockslide almost as quickly on foot as she can in the Chariot. I will wait for a short while, checking my logic circuits and then I will most likely set out for the cave,” Max explained.

*****

Don used a sonic pry bar to loosen some of the rocks. As they fell free, he threw or carried them to one side of the pit. Even with the cool dryness of the cave, he was soon sweating. He kept doing this, only pausing occasionally to get a quick drink from his water bottle, until he heard Maureen above him. 

“Find anything?” she asked. 

“No, not yet,” he admitted. “But I have made some good progress.”

“I’m coming down with the detection device,” she said. Their voices echoed mournfully in the confines of the cave. 

Together they set up the probe, placing it where Don had done the most excavating. Together they watched the monitor for any signs of life on the other side of the slide, a heartbeat, breathing, shifting of rocks, anything. Together they saw nothing. For almost an hour they watched before Maureen signaled an end of the session. 

“Maureen, I’ll keep working. He’s probably further back than the probe can detect,” Don reassured her. “I’ll keep working with the sonic drill until ….” He stopped when he heard soft sobbing. 

Taking Maureen in his arms, he held her until her crying stopped, until she had regained control. “I’m sorry, Maureen. But there’s still a possibility. There’s always a possibility.”

“I’m sorry, Don. I think I’ll be all right. I know there is always a possibility, but… I don’t know what to think or feel anymore. We’ve gone through so much. We finally made it and now this.” She paused, looked up where she knew her two youngest children were waiting. “When I thought John was gone on Ugorrim, I got him back, and although it has been a very eventful and often times stressful year and a half, I am grateful for that gift.”

“I know.” 

“I’d better get back up to the children. I’ll leave the chariot. We’ll hike back. The walk will do us good,” Maureen said. “I will contact Earth, too.”

“Yeah.”

******

Max met the little group on the way up. “Mrs. Robinson, a communication from Earth came through while you were gone. They are aware of the situation and offer their sympathies as well as hope for a happy conclusion.”

Maureen sighed in relief, grateful for one less distasteful thing to do. “Thanks Max. Any indication of the arrival of the colony ship?”

“Two to four days, depending on conditions in this solar system when the Harvester drops out of hyperspace,” Max replied. 

Nodding, Maureen looked toward the lowering sun. “You go on up. Maj. West can use your help. We’d better get back to the Jupiter before dark.”

“Yes, Mrs. Robinson.” 

Maureen started down the slope again. Max looked after her. It was at this moment that he wished he had more emotion circuits as well as more knowledge of humans. 

*****

Four days later, the Harvester broke out of hyperspace and hailed Jupiter Station. Maureen’s look of shock indicated her recognition of the individual on the other end of the communication. “Esther? Esther Black?”

“Yes, Maureen. I decided to make the break with jolly old Earth. Josh is with me, as well,” Esther said and then sobered. “Maureen, I just heard the news from Alpha Control. I am so sorry. Is there any news since you talked to Earth?”

“No, Esther. Don and Max are still working, but there is little hope now,” Maureen said quietly. “A memorial service is set for two days from now. You and anyone else on the Harvester are welcome to attend.”

“Of course.” 

Cutting that communication, Maureen saw that there was one from Don. “Found anything, Don?” 

“No, Maureen, we can’t get all the way through this rubble. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.” 

“There’s nothing more you can do. Come on back. You have Earth colonists who need an orientation and you are Jupiter Colony’s leader,” Maureen said softly. 

She heard Don sigh on the other end. “At his insistence, I’m leaving Max,” Don said. “I’ll be down there in about an hour, shave, and shower and meet our new neighbors.” 

*****

Max watched as Major West climbed out of the pit. Soon the sound of the chariot came to his audio sensors and the robot turned to his task. Taking up the sonic pry bar, he placed the tip in strategic places and turned on the power. Rocks and gravel tumbled down and came to rest near his feet. Dust swirled in the air, but was ignored. After a short time, the robot put the machine aside and reached in with his strong plasti-steel fingers, pulling loosened rocks away. These he threw in the corner. Relentlessly he worked, never stopping, not worrying about time. 

Occasionally one of the Robinsons called and asked for a progress report, but the answer was always the same; a truthful no change in status. Remotely, he noted to himself when a day had passed, but still didn’t cease his work. If nothing else, Max redoubled his efforts, working harder. The discarded stones piled higher and higher against the far wall. Occasionally the robot used the sonic pry bar, but most of the time he just used his own strength. 

Finally, after almost a day and a half, Max felt the slight tremor of shifting rocks and jumped aside. When the cascade had stopped and the dust settled, there was a gaping hole in the blockage that would allow him to pass through. Gratified, Max carefully eased himself through the former barricade and perused the corridor beyond. As expected, he didn’t see Professor Robinson. Walking down the passageway, he finally came to the communicator, smashed and useless. 

Carefully, Max picked it up, examined it briefly and placed it in a storage receptacle just below his chest. Walking further, he came to a rectangular box. It, too, was battered, but not smashed. His fingers probed and pulled the cover off the old box, inside there were a few wires, but little else. Using his olfactory receptors, Max sniffed at a tiny plastic box inside the device. The little box joined the communicator in his storage bin. Looking further down the corridor, Max saw that it continued in almost a straight line. 

“Max, the memorial is only six hours away. You planning on making it?” Major West’s voice came over his communicator. 

“Yes, Major. I plan on being there.”

“Good. You are part of the family.” 

“Thank you. And there is no progress, before you ask, Major,” Max said. During the conversation, the robot had continued advancing down the corridor, his keen eyes looking for any indication of Professor Robinson, or anything out of the ordinary. He noticed scuff marks in the dust of the corridor, a button that would have been unseen by human eye, an odor almost undetectable even to him. After a half mile of walking, the robot came to another entrance that opened on a valley different from the one the Jupiter rested in. 

Striding down the slope, Max stopped and examined a spot of ground that was different than its surroundings. He picked up and stored samples of the grass and soil. Using his optic recorder, he took numerous pictures, storing them in his memory banks. His vocal circuits hummed in satisfaction. He now had all the information he needed to come to a logical conclusion. It was now time to return to the Jupiter and offer his theories. 

Checking his internal time mechanism, he realized that he would return to the campsite after the memorial service had begun. Perhaps that was for the good, he thought to himself. He remembered the days after leaving Krimlon when Professor Robinson had approached him with a paper granting him his own autonomy, duly registered with the Galactic Confederation. The gratification of being a free entity had not been lost on him, but even though he had been free to do as he chose, Max had decided to stay with the Robinson family. It was his sincere hope that he would be able to repay their generosity very soon.


	4. A Nasty Little Plan Comes to Light

As he had figured it would be, the memorial service had already begun when Max quietly approached the group of mourners. As he listened, the robot thought that this human custom was quite appropriate. He wondered for a moment why such a tribute wasn’t done while an individual was still alive, when that person could more fully appreciate it. But then Max remembered how much Prof. Robinson had avoided such events after the defeat of the Graxod, embarrassed by all of the ‘foolish fanfare,’ as he had called it. 

As he stood listening to Major West describe his various memories of Professor Robinson, the Robot approached him. With ultrasonic beeps, sounds that the humans couldn’t hear, his companion reprimanded him for his tardiness. 

“My compatriot, I finally have found all of the clues that I need to make two very important suppositions,” Max responded in the same way. 

“And they are?” the Robot prompted.

“That Professor Robinson is very much alive and I have a general idea where he is,” Max responded. 

The Robot couldn’t help himself; his bubble dome head snapped up and then back down again. Several people turned and scowled at him. At that moment, all of the absent flutter-dragons suddenly appeared in the sky above the Jupiter II. A few minutes later a keening cry was begun by Silverado and taken up by his companions. The silver zanling’s cry was cut off as he disappeared. The others stayed, comforting their bondlings. 

Late that night, Max approached Maureen. She was standing just outside the ship, pointing out stars to Esther Black. “That is the Zanling constellation and that one is the Jupiter. John and I named them the night before… the cave in,” she said softly to her companion, her voice cracking slightly before she regained control. 

“Yes, I see them. How appropriate….” Esther stopped and suddenly pivoted. “Who’s there?” she demanded. 

“It is I, Max,” the robot answered. “Mrs. Robinson, may I speak privately with you?” 

“Yes, of course, Max, but I don’t think there is anything you can say that would be a problem for Esther to hear.”

“That is not what I was referring to, Mrs. Robinson.” He paused, but the woman just stood quietly, her arms folded over her chest. “I have been searching my logic receptors as well as all other data and have come to a logical conclusion.” 

“About what, Max?” Maureen asked, curiosity tingeing her voice. 

“About Professor Robinson. I have every reason to believe that he is not dead.”

“Wh…What?” Maureen asked sharply, her voice rising with emotion. Col. Black put her arm around her companion, letting her lean against her. 

“Your husband is not dead,” Max repeated. He felt the rapid approach of Major West and pivoted around, his arm already out to restrain the angry pilot. 

“Why the hell didn’t you say something before?” Don cried out, trying to extricate himself from the robot’s iron grip. He had no success at all. 

“Because of the very emotions you are exhibiting now, Major West. Had I acted prematurely and been wrong, I would have caused even more emotional suffering. I wanted to be positive of my conclusions.” Noticing the human’s more calm motions, he released him. “I had slight suspicions from the very outset.”

“What caused them? These suspicions, that is?” Maureen asked, the hope in her heart swelling, almost causing a painful sensation, making it hard to breathe.

“The transmission just before the cave-in, Mrs. Robinson. There were several peculiar noises that with further study I determined to be unnatural. An alien artifact that just happened to begin sending signals at this time also seemed too coincidental to me. I began investigating everything. I also studied the recent geological disturbances, as well as the celestial phenomena,” Max explained. 

“I assume that you are referring to the recent earth tremors and the meteor showers?” Don asked. 

“Yes, Major West. I found the tremors, especially, to be inconsistent. They did not follow fault line patterns. I found my decisive clues in the cave. I finally broke through the rockslide and found the device that the professor had gone in the cave to investigate. I found footsteps inconsistent with his. I also found another entrance to the cave. That entrance opened to an adjacent valley; a valley that contained all the signs of recent visitation.”

“Do you mean to imply that Professor Robinson was kidnapped?” Esther asked, incredulous. 

“Yes, Colonel. I do.”

“By whom?” Maureen asked, almost breathlessly. “And why?”

“I believe that the answer to the one will immediately answer the other. I found a broken jacket decoration, residue of a gaseous drug and the device itself all as indicators of the presence of Graxod warriors.” 

“Graxod? Oh, no,” Maureen gasped, understanding the implications immediately. “He could still be dead…”

“No, Mrs. Robinson, that is illogical. If they had simply wanted your husband dead, they would have assassinated him in the cave or the campsite, or at any time since we landed here. At present, the professor is still alive.” 

“But where?” Don asked. 

“I believe he is somewhere in the Graxod system, but that is where my logical conclusions end,” Max said. 

“We have to get hold of the Confederation, or at the very least, Earth, and let them know,” Don declared. 

“On the contrary, Major. If we did that, the professor would most certainly be killed. We have to investigate discreetly,” Max argued. 

“I hate to think what John might be going through right now, but I agree with Max. They want John alive.” She paused. “But why did you let the memorial go on, Max, if you had reasonable doubt?” Maureen asked. 

“I don’t doubt that there is a Graxod scout ship or a tracking device that is monitoring activity here on Gamma at least until they can determine that there is no suspicions concerning Prof. Robinson’s death. Right now, I believe that they feel a necessity to deal with Prof. Robinson privately. What better way could we allay their suspicions than to let them think we believe the professor is dead? It is very possible that they will stop watching us,” Max explained. Several happy squeaks above his head alerted him to the fact that the zanlings were now aware of his news. “It would be advisable to impress upon the zanlings the necessity of keeping this a secret for right now.”

“Now do you have any plans on how to find out John’s whereabouts?” Don asked pointedly.

“Yes, if I may take the newly arrived ship, The Harvester, I will travel to a Confederation planet, buy a more utilitarian craft and hyper-jump to Graxod. It is my belief that our best option is to find Mdorin.”

“John’s second in command,” Maureen stated. 

“Affirmative,” Max stated. 

“You’ll need someone to help you pilot,” Don said. 

“I can handle the piloting of The Harvester. If a human were to accompany me, it might cause suspicion. A Graxod warrior programmed me some time ago. It would be within the realm of possibility for me to go to Graxod, but certainly not one of you. Right now, the only reason one of you might go to Graxod would be to look for Prof. Robinson,” Max told them. 

“Of course, you must take the ship. We have no other recourse. Just find John,” Maureen implored. 

Max nodded. “I will work on modifications to the ship right away. I should be able to take off tomorrow night. Perhaps we could stage the theft of the spaceship to further allay the suspicions of any watcher,” Max suggested. The others nodded. 

*****

Krelon cl Braxir/Graxod breathed deeply, his cartilaginous nose flaps whistling in satisfaction. The subordinate in front of him stood stone still at attention waiting his superior’s completion of his detailed report. “So you followed all of my recommendations…”

“Yes, Lord Commander. We waited until the zanling companions were off-planet. We set the device as suggested, and the curiosity of the human brought him to it within a day cycle. Everything went smoothly. The drug was quick, the ‘cave in’ completely blocked the corridor and our take-off was undetected. The other humans suspect nothing, and in fact recently held something they call a memorial service in honor of the ‘dead’ human.”

“Very, very good. Now we are ready for the trial. I will have the satisfaction of seeing that vermin grovel,” Krelon murmured, his death’s head face breaking into a great smile. 

“Will you fight the womgrantiod with the human commander, my lord?” the subordinate asked. 

“Perhaps eventually, Woril. But I will not make the same mistake my brother made and underestimate this vermin. Right now, the best punishment that could be given to this useless creature would be imprisonment. Separation from all he holds dear. It was evident in my notes how great a bond he has toward his family unit, including his female. That is his weakness; that will be his torture.”

“I stand corrected, Lord Commander. Your assessment is well thought out, as usual,” Woril stated, bowing. 

“Now let us prepare for this vermin’s trial, so the sentence can be carried out.” The Graxod began a sibilant hissing that worked itself deeply into his lungs. Woril smiled and then he, too, began laughing with his superior. 

*****

Max moved stealthily toward The Harvester. While the ship was larger than the Jupiter II, it was a more modern ship; it’s lines smoother, more powerful looking. He had just left the transmitting station, having removed several key components. As he approached the hatch of the ship, a cry stopped him. 

“What are you doing over here, Max?” Major West called out. 

“I wished to see the inside of this ship,” he answered simply. 

“At night?” 

“I desired to make my inspection when I would be less likely to disturb people,” Max explained. 

“I don’t think so. Wait until tomorrow,” Don ordered. 

“No, Major.” Max shifted his balance to one leg and shot the other one toward the human. To an observer, it appeared that he had dealt Major West a serious blow, but his control was so great that his foot stopped several centimeters from the man’s chest. But the major cried out and slumped to the ground. Max dragged him to nearby bushes and then calmly walked on board the ship. Soon an earsplitting wail broke the quiet of the night. It was the fire alarm and within minutes all of the members of the crew as well as the colonists were outside looking at each other in bewilderment. As the large perimeter lights from the Jupiter II came on, The Harvester slowly lifted on its repulsors and majestically floated skyward. Soon the regular rockets kicked in and the ship shot into the sky and out of sight.


	5. Ghilaron

Consciousness brought confusion. Confusion was accompanied by stiffness and muscle weakness. As he felt himself falling, John was aware enough to reach out for something to clutch on to. The edge of the cryogenics chamber was within reach, and he wondered what had happened on the Jupiter that would necessitate the use of the chambers. Reality began to infringe on the tendrils of frozen dreams when hands jerked him roughly out of the chamber. His eyes opened, not on the interior of his spacecraft, but what appeared to be a laboratory. Something was snapped on his wrists, something heavy, something that almost caused him to fall over. 

Looking down, still not fully cognizant, he saw manacles hanging on his wrists, and he flexed his fingers, trying to ease them back to full usefulness. Looking up, he saw Graxod soldiers. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely, his voice feeling rough as though not used for a long time. 

One of the aliens shoved him against the cryogenics chamber and spoke sibilantly in his face. The Graxod’s face was twisted into hatred and disdain. John had no idea what was being said and shook his head. “I don’t understand you.” He wished he had been able to learn the Graxod language during his tenure as Lord Commander, but it had been all he could do to maintain his position. A translator had been utilized for communication purposes. 

The Graxod hissed at him again, punctuating his remarks with another shove against the hard surface of the chamber. This time his head snapped back and cracked against the plexi-glass, and John cried out in pain before he could stop himself. Another Graxod pulled the first one away and, grabbing his shirt, jerked the professor over to a table. Awareness continued to increase as another set of manacles was attached to his ankles. The second Graxod motioned for John to follow him. 

Saying nothing, John carefully slid off the table and followed, shuffling to the maximum limit that the restraints would allow, now realizing that his use of his own language was probably what had set off his guard. He wondered what had happened that he was now somewhere in the hands of a contingent of Graxod. Immediately, he conjectured if his family was also imprisoned here, but as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw no one else in any of the other chambers. That didn’t really mean anything, he told himself morosely, but it gave him hope that he was the only one who had been taken prisoner. 

The thought then occurred to him that telepathy might give him some idea of his present situation, but he hesitated. He didn’t have the help of Silverado, nor was he trying to communicate with friends or loved ones, people familiar to him. But he had to know. He had to at least know about the rest of his family. Letting his body go into what Maureen had once called ‘automatic,’ John continued to walk along the corridor with his captors while he concentrated, trying to see into the mind of the guard in front of him. At the same time his mind remembered the past back on Earth, of getting to various destinations without realizing the journey itself. His mind was usually furiously engaged in different equations or snafus that were holding up the execution of the colonization program. 

Bringing himself totally back to his present situation, John saw pictures in his captor’s mind showing a sort of chamber, with a Graxod in a non-military type of uniform behind a counter-like table, several Graxod in seats opposite the one Graxod. It reminded him of a courtroom of sorts. The verbal thoughts of the alien were fairly incomprehensible to him, but there were tiny vignettes of imagery that began making sense to him and brought relief. John saw the cave on Gamma with the device and his unconscious form nearby. Then he saw himself being carried out of the cave and put into a spaceship. That answered the question about the rest of his family. He was here, alone, kidnapped for some purpose. Right now, he didn’t really want to know what that purpose was, although his imagination could supply some speculative answers. 

All that occurred to him at the moment was the thought that if he had more fully utilized his talent, he would not be in this predicament. ‘You still have it, Dad,’ he remembered Will saying. Yes, he did, but had refused to use the telepathy more than he had to. If he had probed while in the cave he would have discovered the trap that had been set for him. At the very least he could have called for help. He had been a fool, disdaining a gift that had been given to him. 

Berating himself would not get him anywhere, he decided, and shoved the guilty thoughts into the deep recesses of his consciousness. Now was the time for finding out facts. 

Probing again, John found that hatred overshadowed all mental thoughts and pictures, hatred for himself, anger for the change in status of the Graxod people, bitterness for defeat. Vengeance came next and then humiliation for the sudden dependence on other races to change a way of living that had existed for hundreds of years. John backed out of the alien’s mind, not wanting to wallow in the self-destructive morass the Graxod had created for himself. Wryly, he figured he had enough baggage of his own to make himself depressed. 

A shove against his back caused him to stumble and fall to his knees, the ankle restraints not allowing him enough room to recover in time. The sibilant hissing from several guards was laughter, John realized, and he picked himself off the floor with as much decorum as he could. Another shove from the side was not as unexpected, and John grabbed his tormentor by the arm, shoving him against the wall. “Don’t do that again,” he commanded. A rod in the hand of a different guard forced him backwards until his body was stopped by the edge of a doorframe. There the two stared each other down. Finally the Graxod with the pole said something, prodded him and then backed away. Thoughts in the mind of the guard indicated a demand for compliance, but John wasn’t sure. 

Taking a risk, John nodded, and, pointing to his tormentor, made signs telling the Graxod in front of him that he had no intention of taking any kind of physical abuse from any of them. The guard with the pole stared at him for another moment, and John repeated himself. Finally the Graxod also nodded and said something to the others. Apparently he had guessed rightly in the action he should take. The telepathy, hopefully, would make his stay here a bit easier if it helped him second-guess Graxod customs. It might also facilitate his release from this place. 

The door opened and the guard with the pole motioned him to enter. It was the chamber he had telepathically seen in the other guard’s mind. And in front of him sat the very same Graxod as well. A finger pointed to a little table to one side of the room facing the Graxod behind the counter. Various other Graxod officials and military men, by the looks of their clothing, sat in the seats on the other side of the room from him. There was only one guard sitting next to him. If this was intended to be a trial, there was no counsel for the defense, John thought wryly. 

The ‘head’ Graxod motioned to the guard with the pole, and the alien walked over to his superior. John was surprised when he saw a translator changing hands. The guard brought it over to his table, handing it to him. Immediately John switched it on. 

“You are being allowed the use of a translator, human, just for the duration of this trial. I want you to understand exactly what you are charged with and what your sentence will be,” the Graxod behind the counter said. “My name is Krelon cl Braxir/Graxod and I am officiating at this hearing.”

“Braxir? That name sounds familiar, Commander,” John said. 

“It should, my brother was Kalingdor cl Braxir/Graxod,” he hissed, his nose flaps blowing in and out in his agitation. “Now let us begin.” 

“I presume that there is no defense council,” John inquired. 

“This is not a human trial. There is no defense at all. If you wish to make a point, you will make it. But do not bore or hinder this hearing with trivialities. Do you understand?” 

“Of course. This is what, on Earth, would be called a kangaroo court,” John said tersely. From Krelon’s puzzled look, it was apparent that the translator was unable to make sense of his idiomatic phrase. It was probably just as well. “Never mind. Let’s proceed.” 

“John Robinson, you are accused of murdering Kalingdor cl Braxir/Graxod,” Krelon intoned.

“I certainly object to that,” John said. “The womgrantiod was invoked by myself and accepted by Kalingdor. It was fairly fought and fairly won.” From the noise in the audience section, John wasn’t sure if they were upset with his objection or with the charge. He assumed that it was the former, because this didn’t look to be an impartially run trial. 

“Your use of an alien creature to aid you in the womgrantiod was not fair,” Krelon said, glaring at him. 

“Alien creature, mechanical device. What is the difference? According to my combat advisor both were perfectly acceptable in a womgrantiod,” John retorted. 

Krelon blinked and stared even harder at him. He drummed the counter top with his long slender fingers and muttered to himself. The only sound in the room was the slight crackling of the translator and the whistling sound of air passing in and out of the magistrate’s nose flaps. “Very well, that charge is dismissed. It is of no consequence whatsoever.” He paused and looked John squarely in the eyes. John felt a great deal of the animosity behind those small, dark eyes and knew that Krelon was waiting to serve up his trump card. 

“John Robinson, you are accused of the murders of over two hundred Graxod warriors.” 

“I cannot deny that I caused the deaths of those men, but it was done in self-defense. If I hadn’t acted, there would have been over five hundred Graxod families mourning their dead sons and fathers,” John answered. 

“Perhaps, but it was your very presence that invoked the incident that caused their deaths,” Krelon stated. 

“It was their commander who caused their deaths,” John fired back tersely.

“No matter, John Robinson, you are accused of annihilation of the Graxod way of life, of the destruction of our livelihood and means of self-preservation.”

John stood staring at Krelon, shocked at the magnitude of the accusations and the fact that these people actually believed in their merit. Finally he sat down, knowing how futile it would be to defend himself against such charges, illogical though they were. “Commander, I do not deny that my defeat of Commander Kalingdor set in motion events that have caused the demise of a way of life. Those events also saved future races from destruction, including your own. Those events very likely will bring about a strengthening of your race through various medical improvements….”

“Enough rhetoric!” Krelon bellowed. “Those charges alone are enough to warrant the sentence of life imprisonment on Ghilaron. Here you will remain until your death. There will be no reprieve and no contact with anyone outside this facility. There will be no special favors due to your race. You will be treated like any other prisoner. Take him to his cell.”

John stood in shock, the Graxod’s words echoing in his ears and mind. ‘Life imprisonment! No, NO!’ Even with the manacles, John managed to leap over the table toward the Graxod magistrate. “NO!!” he cried out loud in his anguish. The thought of never-ending separation from his family caused all of his previous determination to be calm and logical to fly out the window. The guard near him tried to get in front of him and subdue him with the rod. John simply grabbed the weapon and used it to knock the Graxod unconscious with a quick blow across the side of his head. Pandemonium reigned in the chamber, with the human holding several more guards at bay. 

Then there was another bellowing cry from the counter. “We can end this right now, human vermin. I can pull the firing pin and you will be a charred husk which we will discreetly deliver to your family for their identification.” John looked up and saw Krelon pointing a very deadly looking weapon at him. He didn’t doubt his words either. His ferocious rage melted and he was left with blackest despair. He threw the staff away from him, hearing it clatter ominously against the floor. 

“Take him to his cell,” Krelon hissed. John sedately followed the Graxod guards to his new home. The force field hissed ominously behind him as well. 

*****

“Mom, why did Max leave us and why did he steal the ship? I thought he was happy with us. He said he wanted to stay, even after Dad renounced ownership of both robots,” Will asked, puzzled. 

“I think it’s time you all knew what was going on. Just keep it from the colonists for a few days,” Maureen said, looking at the sad countenance of her youngest child. Penny and Judy stood nearby, puzzled by the mysterious tone of their mother’s voice. 

“Max has been very busy since your dad… disappeared. He did a great deal of research and discovered evidence that pointed to a kidnapping, not a natural death in a cave-in.”

“Dad’s alive?” Penny asked in a whisper. 

“Yes, he believes so,” Maureen said and then paused to regain control of her fragile emotions. Her children gathered around her and they hugged each other. After a few minutes, Don continued the story, bringing them up to the present. 

“What can we do?” Will finally asked. 

“Nothing right now. Except wait and let Max see what he can accomplish,” Maureen answered.


	6. Telepathy

John stared into the corridor of the prison through the opacity of the force field, his head resting on the wall of his cell, trying desperately to wrest some kind of solace from this place. Shaking his head, the professor pulled himself out of the wallow of despair he felt himself sinking into. 

There were several things that seemed very apparent to John as he pondered past events and stared into the quiet corridor. First of all, this was a clandestine trial, something that Krelon decided needed to be done for his and his friends’ personal satisfaction. Another thing that seemed obvious to John was the fact that although he was keeping this little kangaroo court fairly secretive, Krelon was a Graxod of great power and rank to be able to pull it off at all. But where in the galaxy was he, John wondered. It seemed ludicrous that he would be on Graxod itself, but on the other hand, he couldn’t be too far from the home world either. To have placed him on a remote planet light-years from the Graxod system was just inviting discovery. 

The conditions of the Confederation edict must still be in effect on the Graxod homeworld. But the thing that alarmed John was the fact that Krelon must believe he or someone else had the means to change that. Somehow the lord commander must be planning or be part of a rebellion against the Confederation forces present at Graxod. It seemed to him that there would be no way to keep his existence in this prison a secret for too long without there being an assurance that eventually there would be no repercussion for having done so. But then, John thought morosely, he might very well be making too much of his importance. 

He did know, however, that Maureen wouldn’t neglect to use every means at her disposal to try and find him. And that was something else that puzzled him. How would they keep Don and Maureen from raising a hue and cry when at his disappearance? Unless they had been killed, he thought anxiously. But there had been no indication of that in the thoughts of the guard who had carried him out of the cave. 

John shook his head, realizing that there were two things that he was going to have to do in order to find out what he needed to know and also to get out of here, wherever this place was. One was to learn the language. He would have to understand what was going on around here. The other thing he would have to do would be to rely more on the telepathy to help him gain a bit of advantage over his jailers. At least he had the freedom to do that and was not bound by a device as he had been on Krimlon. 

Sighing, the prisoner began to take closer stock to his surroundings. There was a small washstand-like contrivance, a tiny lavatory that would make a jet bathroom look huge, a bed that was merely a pallet on a slab built out from the wall and a little table. On inspection, John found that the table could be moved, thus allowing the bed to be used as a chair. There was no window and the force field effectively cut off all view, only letting in light to see by. Looking down, he noticed that his watch had been taken from him, effectively making a determination of the time of day impossible. On his way to the erstwhile trial there had been no windows either. The only thing he had to go by was the fact that he was thirsty, hungry and, despite his stay in cryogenics, he was also tired. 

Walking over to the little washstand, he pushed a button and watched a slightly less than clear stream of liquid coming from a tiny spout. Holding his fingers under it, John smelled the liquid, and then put his tongue to it. It was slightly brackish, with some other off taste as well. He spit it out and, seeing no towel or rag, wiped his fingers on his pants. Determining that the only thing he could do something about right now was sleep. A jingling accompanied his attempt at lying down on the long, narrow bed, but he maneuvered the manacles until he was semi-comfortable and tried to relax enough to sleep. 

The weight of the links across his stomach was a constant reminder of his plight and John wondered if his sentence included life in these chains. Surely they didn’t think he was so dangerous that they had to keep them on 24/7. The thought was depressing and he practiced the c.lir Max had taught him, this time focussing on the inner workings of his body. He heard his lungs taking in air and breathing it out, felt the beating of his heart and the flow of the blood in various parts of his body, heard and felt the protests of his stomach, but dismissed that. After he relaxed his muscles and felt the slowing of his pulse, John began focussing on his surroundings, using his senses to pierce the area outside his cell. 

Slight, almost non-discernible sounds of footsteps came to his awareness and John listened to their approach, knowing that the visitor was going to visit him. He probed telepathically but couldn’t get any more information than that this was a guard and there was some type of chamber-like destination for him. The steps stopped in front of his cell and a slight buzzing told the professor that the force field had been turned off. He continued to lie on his bed quietly, curious to know the disposition of this particular guard. The sibilant noise of the Graxod’s breathing quickened a bit. The guard was somewhat afraid of him, John realized in shock. The alien had never met a human and only had what he had been told to go by. John opened his eyes and looked directly into those of the young Graxod. 

“Tinar,” John said, one of the few words of Graxod he knew. It was a greeting Mdorin had taught him. The guard looked startled, but then he seemed to realize his duty and beckoned to John. The alien spoke several sentences of instruction, but the professor just shook his head and signed that he didn’t understand. Sliding off the bed, he followed his guard in the shuffling walk that he was getting tired of. Several times the Graxod looked over his shoulder in irritation at him, but John could only point to the manacles on his ankles and shrug. Scowling, the guard just continued down the corridor, slowing his pace a bit to accommodate the prisoner. 

Finally, the pair came to the door to a large chamber, filled with numerous machines and many workers, presumably other prisoners. John stared in shock at the size of the operation. It appeared to be a monstrously huge machine shop. A heavy blow to his shoulder brought his attention back to his guard, who was pointing to another guard within the room. John just nodded and walked over to the Graxod foreman. The alien grabbed the manacles on his wrists and, jerking them up, shook them, shouting something that John supposed was cursing. A guard loped out of the room at double-time. 

The disgruntled Graxod continued to hold his chains at an awkward angle, causing the manacles to dig into his wrists. In irritation, John pulled back. “Bris,” he said authoritatively, using the Graxod word for ‘no.’ Surprisingly, the alien seemed to take no offense, but he, too began speaking quickly, pointing to various machines. Shaking his head, John signed his inability to understand his words. The guard hissed sibilantly in annoyance, beckoning for John to follow him to a machine. There he pointed to the worker operating it, and the professor understood that he was supposed to watch and learn. 

After a few minutes, the guard dismissed the other prisoner, a more slender than average Graxod slightly shorter than the guard. Slightly vexed, John noticed that the alien wasn’t fettered. Reaching in a box for a piece of metal, the professor tossed it in the feeder tray and then turned and stared at the guard. Holding out the chains and then pointing to the machine, he just said, “Bris.”

“Cri plor iengris l pa!” his guard shouted, pointing to the machine. 

Reaching into the Graxod’s mind, John understood the phrase… ‘Get to work!’

“Bris,” John repeated, using signs to indicate the danger of dangling chains near the heavy machinery. 

The guard repeated himself also and John realized that this was a war of wills, but in watching the other prisoner, he had seen the potential danger in working around this machine with the dangling chains. Shaking his head, John said vehemently, “Cri plor bris.” He turned and standing near the machine, held the manacles near the starting lever, showing the proximity of the chains to the gearshift mechanisms. “No,” John emphasized again in Graxod. Glancing over the guard’s shoulder, he saw several prisoners watching the exchange in interest. 

Suddenly, the guard whipped out a short rod and held it to his side. An electrical shock brought him to his knees, but he bit off the short exclamation of pain that formed in his throat. John had no desire to show any more weakness than he could help. It was in the minds of the other prisoners, as well as the guards he had encountered. Strength was admired. Reaching out with his hands, he grabbed the guard’s foot and jerked it forward, causing his tormentor to fall backward to the hard metal floor. The rod skittered across the ground and clattered to a stop against another machine. 

Getting up as quickly as he could with his fettered feet, John faced the guard in a defensive stance that left no doubt to any observer as to his intent. The Graxod who had left the room in such a hurry, came running back to the guard, a small device in his hand. John stiffened, expecting it to be some kind of offensive weapon. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the device that had blinded him during the Womgrantiod he had fought with Kalingdor. 

But when the guard beckoned to him, John searched telepathically and realized it was a type of key. Holding out his hands, he let the guard grab the end of the manacle and insert the key. The chains dropping to the ground made a most satisfying clattering sound. Next John pointed to his feet. The guard stared into his eyes for a moment and then smiled a death’s head smile and handed the key to his subordinate. Soon the other set of manacles had joined the rest. Looking around the guard growled out an order and all the prisoners were suddenly busy at their posts. Mollified, John turned and began working the machine, which seemed to have the purpose of making some sort of large gun barrel. Soon, even above the loud noise of the machinery, he heard the chains being picked up and taken away. Then he sensed the departure of the guard. After awhile, his hands had memorized the monotonous motions of working this machine and John glanced surreptitiously around the room whenever he was loading the raw metal onto the machine or putting the finished product into a receiving box. And he probed and thought. 

*****

As The Harvester steadily drew away from the pull of Gamma’s atmosphere, Max entered the coordinates of his destination. Punching in the activation code, the colony ship streaked into the nether world of hyperspace, the stars coalescing into varicolored streaks of light. 

Max watched the streaming, shifting colors of starlight impartially, his mind analyzing the events of the past week, his logic bringing him to the same conclusions. Professor Robinson was being held on the same planet where the Graxod had been released at the conclusion of their attempt to conquer Earth. Somehow Max felt that the professor’s abduction was accomplished not only by a Graxod of great financial means, but by one related to Lord Commander Kalingdor. His suppositions would definitely bear investigation. 

During the three day interval in hyperdrive, Max utilized his time practicing various martial arts technique and cleaning the various areas of the ship. His analytical mind catalogued the contents as he cleaned. He was not sure of the disposition of Pricoris, but it would not hurt to have an inventory for the end of this venture. 

Three days later a chime alerted the robot to impending re-entry into real space. Flaming streamers of star light coalesced and re-formed into stars and nebulae. Checking the instruments, Max laid in a course for Pricoris’ asteroid. 

“Identify or be destroyed,” a tinny voice demanded. 

“MA2469300X9Z requesting authorization to land,” Max answered giving his numerical designation.

“Land on Z4 pad,” the voice instructed.

“Affirmative,” Max answered and slowly brought the large ship lightly down on the designated landing pad. Out of the observation window, the robot noticed a huge orange-hued long haired humanoid. Pricoris must have remembered him, to be out in the thin atmosphere of the asteroid to greet him. 

As he stepped lightly down the ramp, the monstrous alien walked toward him and growled ominously. “Fine thing, leaving me in a situation like that.”

“You used me as collateral in a Domural toss game. I didn’t belong to you anymore,” Max reminded the hairy behemoth. 

To his surprise, Pricoris reached his long muscular arms around him and gave him a great hug. “Ah, that was a most stupid mistake on my part. Things haven’t been the same since I lost my best bouncer,” Pricoris boomed. “The day after I lost you, a Micrel.lux flow-worm just about tore my place apart.” 

“Surely, Pricoris, you know that even I couldn’t take care of a flow-worm alone,” Max pointed out. 

“Well, MA, you would have made it an interesting fight,” Pricoris laughed, his voice booming down the corridor as he led Max to the caverns that held his living quarters and his business establishment. 

“I have a name now. It is Max.”

“Coming up in the world, is it? And I noticed that you used my name and not my title,” Pricoris said, his curiosity piqued. 

“I received the name and manumission from my former owner. I am a free entity.”

“That why you left your former owner?” Pricoris asked pointedly. 

“No, I left my home in order to search for my former owner. He was abducted and I need a more inconspicuous spaceship,” Max stated to the shocked and gaping Porgong.


	7. Out of Body

“What do you take me for, a charity center?” Pricoris yelped, staring at his former possession.

“I need something I can use that will not link me to my friends,” Max went on. “I can leave this ship as collateral. If I do not succeed then you can contact the planet where it was made and they will pay the recovery fee.” 

“You are serious, aren’t you?” the Porgong asked. 

“Yes, I am,” Max said evenly. “My kidnapped friend has always treated me as an independent and fully sentient being, even before granting me autonomy.” 

“Who did you hook up with? The Speekan Charity Mothers?” Pricoris asked, chuckling at his own joke. He sobered quickly as Max continued. 

“No, and it would be better if I told you as little as possible. My friend has made some very powerful enemies,” Max explained. “I would hate for anyone to exact retribution against you because you became too deeply involved with my activities. This way, you can truthfully say that your only knowledge of the matter was that I arranged for a ship and left that one out there as collateral.”

“You always were naïve. Most robots are. What do you think I am supposed to do with that monster out there. I don’t have a hanger for it. What was it used for anyway, hauling colonists?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Max answered. “It was the only thing available to… take. But I had the leave of the others of my friend’s clan.” 

Pricoris tilted his head back and laughed heartily, his leathery lips forming a grin wide enough for a watermelon to reside in them. His bright violet eyes flashed merrily. “Oh, a thief is it? I thought so. If you hadn’t been such a loyal employee, I’d flush you down the refuse tubes right now, you hard-shelled brisbet. Well, let me think on it. I suppose I could hide that thing on the dark side of one of the other asteroids. Any possibility of a planetary government snooping around here for their spaceship?” 

“There shouldn’t be. This is only the second such ship my friend’s home planet has made,” Max reassured Pricoris. He felt Silverado on his shoulder and figured the zanling had recovered from the hyperspace transition.

“Well, let’s go down and look at the smaller ships. Hopefully I will have something you can use to rescue this friend of yours,” the alien said and then looked at the golden-eyed zanling gazing at him from Max’s shoulder. “What is that thing, a pet?” Silverado squeaked angrily. 

“He says the Prince of the Zanlings is not anyone’s pet,” Max translated. “He happens to be the bondling of my abducted friend.”

“Oh, many pardons, your Royal Highness,” Pricoris said in a slightly sarcastic voice, bowing his massive torso in a mock gesture of respect. 

Silverado squeaked again, his tone one of irritation. “He says that your words and actions seem respectful, but the thoughts are condescending,” Max translated. 

“Oh, ho, telepathic are we. I feel sorry for that bondling you are looking for. Maybe he wasn't kidnapped, maybe he just decided to get away.”

Silverado sat up on Max’s plasti-steel shoulder and creeled loudly. “He said that his bondling would never leave like that,” Max interpreted again. “Silverado, Pricoris is only teasing you. We all know that Professor Robinson would not leave his family, nor would he want to ‘get away’ from you either,” Max said soothingly. 

“Well, so now we have a name. Max, you know me well enough to realize that I can be as tight-lipped as a Murilian shell-flower. I think you need to tell me a bit more about this venture so I can provide you with the right ship,” Pricoris said gently. 

Max nodded and proceeded to give a sketchy overview of the attempted Graxod invasion of Earth and the resulting abduction. The Porgong rubbed his smooth reddish-orange cheek and then pulled on a hank of bright orange hair that fringed his face. “Graxod, huh. That was an understatement when you said that your friend had made powerful enemies. I had heard about their conquest that failed. Sounds like a few of the high boys in the Graxod government are planning some kind of a comeback or something like that. I don’t think I’d want to leave my worst enemy with that bunch. I’ll find you a ship that’s fast and yet, inconspicuous at the same time.” 

“Thank you, Pricoris,” Max said gratefully. Silverado chirped his thanks as well. 

“You’re more than welcome, highness.” 

*****

A blatting horn and the thoughts of rest and food pulled John away from the machine that he felt he had been in front of for days, not hours. All of the prisoners were escorted out the door and down the corridors. As he followed the rest, a guard pulled him aside and pointed down a side corridor, which John recognized as the passageway leading to his cell. As he entered his living quarters, John looked at the hard bed in a new light. His thoughts were of gratitude. He carefully eased his boots from his aching feet. Reclining, he tried to focus his mind into the c.lir. Slowly, very slowly, he was able to relax and work on relieving the tension in his weary muscles. His aching back finally quit screaming epitaphs at him and he was beginning to drift off into a light sleep when the approach of someone outside his cell caused him to sit up in anticipation. 

When the forcefield dropped, John saw two guards, one of whom had a tray with dinner in his hands. Gratefully he took the tray and set it next to him on the bed. It was apparent from the thoughts of the two men that he was to live a great deal of his time in solitary. The other prisoners had been escorted to a communal dining facility. It would seem that these Graxod, including Krelon, were afraid of him and didn’t want him near the other prisoners any more than was needful. 

Looking up at the Graxod, he noticed that this guard, like the one earlier in the day, was very young. He also noticed that the man continued standing near him, staring, even after John had set down his tray. 

“Tinar,” John said. Then he made hand motions and used the limited vocabulary at his disposal to get across the idea that he needed help to learn the language. The guard outside his cell barked a command to the younger alien that John knew by now meant ‘come on.’ John felt more curiosity than animosity in this one’s gaze and thoughts, and felt that here might be someone he could prevail upon for help with the language. 

Pointing to the tray by his side, the young guard simply said, “Crizor escrilis.” ‘Eat your food.’ Then he turned and accompanied the older man. The force field was reinstated with finality, but John felt a bit of hope that not all in this place had absolute fear of or hatred for him. He looked down at the meal at his side and didn’t wonder at the Graxod’s admonition. If he hadn’t been ravenously hungry, this tray would go into the disposal chute untouched.


	8. Breakthrough

Mlidis was telling the joke today. John listened carefully to each word, trying to decipher them. He was determined to figure it out using only his meager knowledge of the language, with only minimal help from the telepathy. Sometimes the speaker had more than one thing on his mind when he was talking and John had been embarrassed a time or two trying to explain where he had gotten some of his notions of the Graxod language. This time the joke was one of a veritable library of such anecdotes that the three Graxod companions told whenever the guards approached during the meal break. John sat silently while the guard passed. Suddenly it clicked; the words to the joke made sense now. He almost choked on his meal, as the humor became apparent to him. Crinar was watching him steadily and saw the signs of understanding. 

When the guard had passed, John turned to Mlidis and hissed, “The Lord Commander’s consort had reason to be… uh,” he searched for the right word, “angry.” 

Pronix smiled a death’s head grin. “You learn fast,” he whispered. 

“But not fast enough,” John said, grateful for his knowledge, but irritated that it wasn’t coming faster. It had taken almost two weeks to get this far, and he felt his command of the language still left a great deal to be desired. 

“You are not bad for a human,” Crinar commented. John blinked at him in surprise. 

“You are not bad for a Lord Commander,” Pronix added sardonically and then started hissing in muted laughter. The others joined in. 

The days that followed became monotonous in their similarity to each other. The time schedule was the same, the job was the same, and the food was the same. John felt it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have had something to read or someone with whom to talk, but there was nothing and no one, except his few companions on the work detail, and he wasn’t always able to communicate with them. What frustrated him the most was his inability to progress toward his goal of learning the language and thus, figuring out how to get out of this place. 

When he wasn’t too tired after working on the machinery, he began composing notes on the wall by his bed using the edge of his belt buckle to write on the porous material. Some were essays about his explorations and adventures, some were letters to his family. All were short, this was not his medium of choice and most of the time, his compositions never left the confines of his mind. Thankfully, the c.lir helped him to relax his tired muscles and to cope with the occasional bouts of depression that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought overly long of his plight. 

*****

Maureen paced the confines of the Jupiter II incessantly, walking around the navigational control panel, the Robot and any individuals with equal preoccupation. In the past three weeks it had become almost a habit. 

“Maureen,” Esther called out softly, when a reasonable time had elapsed. “Maureen!” she called out more forcefully. 

Maureen stopped, turned and stared at her friend, as though seeing Esther for the first time. 

“Maureen, Brent and I have jet packed the hills, and while there are indications of Graxod presence as late as three days ago, there is nobody out there now. The Robot is right, the Graxod are satisfied and are gone, although I must say, I never thought they would go. They can be aggravatingly patient. I daresay it’s safe to send a message to Earth,” Esther told her agitated friend. “They will get hold of the Confederation.” 

“Esther, I am so confused, so undecided. I wish we had a secure communications line so we could call directly to Commander Prowlith. I’m so afraid that information will leak out to the Graxod if we go through several different channels.”

Nodding, Esther said, “Yes, I agree. That worries me, too, but if we don’t hear from the Confederation soon about the _Harvester _, we may have to risk it.”__

____

____

“It’s been almost three weeks since Max left,” Maureen stated pensively, looking out the observation window at the valley stretched out before them. Much of the machinery and agricultural supplies had been unloaded the day Max had stolen the colony ship. However, that had been part of Don and Esther’s plan, pushing for the unloading of the ship, citing the need to forget recent events. Max had essentially stolen a ship empty of everything except personal belongings. 

One thing for which Maureen was grateful was all the work that had to be accomplished to accommodate the new colonists. A large group of people could live only so long in tents. There were several pre-fab shelters set up on the west side of the valley. Don and Brent Wochowski, the commander of _The Harvester _, had worked together tirelessly to accomplish everything that had been done in such a relatively short time.__

____

____

Most nights, for the past two weeks, Maureen had been so exhausted by the time she crawled into bed that she had no time to feel the total pain of yet another separation. During the times when she was able to think deeply of John’s plight, it was with the anguished thoughts of one who knew a loved-one was in danger and could not do anything about it. It took a great effort for her to purge from her mind pictures of harsh treatment and perhaps even torture at the hands of John’s Graxod captors. At times the tears flowed unbidden and Maureen wondered when it would end. At least this time the children were safe.

*****

“Penny?” a familiar voice called behind her. Lucy chirped a friendly greeting and launched herself from the girl’s shoulder, spiraling into the sky, the setting sun creating rainbows of iridescent colors on her gossamer wings. 

Slowly getting to her feet, she turned and faced Josh Black, who was watching her with a great grin on his face. “What are you so happy about?” she asked, puzzled. Their conversations during the past two weeks had been brief and awkward, as though circumstances had made them shy with each other. And indeed, it had, Penny thought. She had had to keep up the pretense of her father being dead and not being able to confide in Josh about the whole matter. It had made her feel intensely guilty. 

“Mom told me that your Dad’s alive and that Max took _The Harvester _to try and find him.” At Penny’s look of alarm, he continued. “Mom talked with your mom, and they and Don thought it was time to start letting everyone know.” He paused and looked deeply into Penny’s large hazel eyes. “I’m so glad, Penny. I was so sad before. I…I really didn’t know what to say, how to help you cope with your dad being gone.”__

____

____

“I know, Josh. I hated pretending that Dad was dead. It’s been bad enough imagining all the horrible things that could be happening to him, but having to lie, too, has been awful.”

“You weren’t lying,” he said.

“Well, not directly, but it felt terrible not telling you the truth. It felt the same as lying,” she admitted.

“Was that why you’ve kind of avoided me?” he asked pointedly.

“I suppose. You’ve been doing the same thing, too.”

Suddenly Josh burst into laughter. “Now that we’ve taken care of that problem, let’s work together getting these seeds in the ground. It’s a good thing all of the supplies had been unloaded before….” He glanced at Penny with a sudden look of understanding. “Everyone was thinking how fortunate it was that all the equipment had been unloaded. But it was planned, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes, it was. Don told me,” she replied.

“You Robinsons can sure put together a plan!” Josh exclaimed. 

Penny began giggling. Josh looked at her in bemusement. “What’s so funny?”

“That sounds like something Daddy used to say occasionally while we were still on Earth. ‘I love it when a good plan comes together.’ He said he got it from somewhere else, but I don’t know where. It was the way he said it that was so funny. So droll. And it was usually after something at Alpha Control that had been a huge problem was finally solved. 

She stopped, ran her fingers through the small sack of seeds and then looked skyward. “Oh, Josh, what are the Graxod doing to him?” 

Josh could almost feel the aching of her heart and his own heart ached for her. “Tonight after dinner, I would really like you to tell me the story of the Krimlon Guardian. I’ve heard only bits and pieces, mainly from Will,” Josh said gently. Penny just stared into his eyes for a moment and then nodded, noticing the loving and caring look that was held in their depths. “Your dad survived his tenure as Guardian, Penny. He is also Lord Commander and he’ll survive the Graxod. They will not defeat him,” he said softly, remembering the morning he awoke in the Chariot and watched Penny’s father practicing for the Womgrantiod. Professor Robinson fit all of the accolades that had been heaped on him. Josh saw many of those same traits in his daughter. A warmth spread in his heart that had nothing to do with the warmth of the setting sun. 

“Thank you, Josh. I believe you. Dad will come home.” Her eyes brimmed with tears before she shook her head and turned back to the cultivated row before her. “I suppose we need to finish this row before it gets too dark.” They worked together in the waning light. Occasionally his hands brushed against hers and the thrill of her touch sent electrical messages through his body. When the corn had been planted and twilight was slowly descending like a soft blanket, Josh gently put his arm around her waist and helped her across the unevenness of the field. He enjoyed another thrill as he felt the warmth of her body next to his, but he just reveled in that proximity without attempting to do anything else. He remembered with a mental smile, that she was not quite sixteen. He was patient and Penny was well worth waiting for. 

*****

“Well, my friend, what do you think?” Pricoris asked, pointing to a somewhat beat-up looking small scout vessel. It looked only big enough to hold two people comfortably, four, if the occupants had no desire to sleep. Of course, for himself that was no problem.

“It will be quite suitable, Pricoris. It is of Graxod make, is it not?” Max asked. 

“Yes, I thought you might have an easier time with the Graxod authorities, if you were ‘returning a stolen ship for me,’ so to speak,” Pircoris said blandly, as he fingered the orange facial hair draping toward his shoulders.

“I had been thinking about that. Autonomous robots are very rare in Graxod society,” Max admitted.

“Max, my friend, robots in Graxod society are rare. A free one is non-existent,” Pricoris said with a chuckle. “You may be loyal, you are courageous, and you are certainly audacious, but you are a bit naïve.” 

Max walked inside the little craft, checking out the various systems while Pricoris continued his explanation. “I have drawn up papers stating that you are my representative returning this ship that came into my hands by somewhat questionable means. I certainly don’t wish to incur the wrath of the esteemed military regime of Graxod. 

“I am also stating that your instructions are to deliver this ship directly to Commander Mdorin cl Graxod, whose name I culled from the temp log.”

“Your linguistic experts?” Max queried. Silverado sat quietly on his shoulder. 

“My linguistic experts created a very realistic log which has already been installed in the computer. Made it a great deal easier that this ship only uses the visual means of communicating rather than an aural log,” Pricoris quipped. 

“Of course,” Max replied, not in the least surprised with his former owner’s attention to detail. “How did you figure the link to Commander Mdorin?”

“As subcommander, it can be assumed that he would, at one time or another, be in charge of reconnaissance or fighter training on The Conquest, would it not?” Pricoris asked, a cunning gleam in his eyes. “Everything you need is in the log, and of course, as a very loyal and one-track minded employee of mine, you will insist on delivering this crate to the individual on the manifest.”

If Max had flexible lips, he probably would have smiled. Pricoris had not changed. He was still jovial, but at the same time, scheming, conniving and devious. And Max was infinitely grateful. “Thank you, Pricoris. I am most appreciative of your help.” 

“Well, well lad. It is my desire, if you succeed in breaking your former owner out of whatever Graxod hellhole he’s in, that you bring him here. I’d kind of like to meet the idiot who let such a fine robot as yourself out of his ownership.” Silverado stared at Pricoris with bright golden eyes and then squeaked a short happy squeak.

“What did he say?” Pricoris asked.

“He said it’s a promise.”


	9. Revelations

“Wake up!” the harsh hissing voice crowded into the pleasant domain of his dreams. With a slight groan, John forced his eyes open and let his mind drift reluctantly into reality of his surroundings. His body still felt tired, filled with the lethargy that had hit him at the end of the work cycle yesterday. He always felt tired when he was escorted back to his cell, but yesterday had seemed worse and John had fallen asleep shortly after dinner. 

“Hurry and eat, Rilis. The work will be a little different today,” the guard told John as he set the tray down beside him. Looking up in curiosity, the professor received no further clues from the taciturn Graxod who silently turned and left. 

As he ate the bread and paste and washed up at the basin, John began feeling better, a bit more refreshed. Scratching his chin, he wished for the umpteenth time that he had a razor. In what he figured to be at least three weeks, probably more, his beard had become fairly full and therefore bothersome. His hair, too, which he had already been wearing longer anyway, was now brushing annoyingly below the collar of his shirt. 

Jerking his pants and shirt from the end of the bed where they had been drying, he pulled them on, grateful for the lack of humidity in this place. Every night, John had made it a habit to try and rinse the grime from his clothes. There was no soap, but he did the best he could. About the time he had finished dressing and had run his fingers through his damp hair, the forcefield lowered and the dour guard beckoned to him. 

This time John focussed on reading the Graxod’s mind and got an image of a pale sun and barren, mountainous terrain. For some reason the thought of going out angered the guard, something to do with cold, but John was elated. This might possibly be the opening he was looking for. 

The guard led him along unfamiliar corridors until they reached a large room, filled with crates, boxes of various sizes, and machinery. Seeing Crinar, John walked over to him and inquired, “What’s going on?” 

“We are loading cargo onto ships going to Graxod,” Crinar explained. 

“We’re not in a Graxod prison?” John asked.

Pronix laughed softly. “Yes, we are, but not on Graxod, Lord Commander. Do you remember the planet, Ghilaron, where we disembarked after the thwarted invasion?” 

John nodded. He remembered the trial and the sentence he had received. ‘Life imprisonment on Ghilaron.’ “Yes, I remember.” A guard walked by them, gazing surreptitiously in their direction. When he had passed, John leaned over to Pronix, “Stop calling me Lord Commander. I think he might have heard you.” 

“Personally, I couldn’t care less. And I am not saying anything untrue,” Pronix replied. Crinar just grinned. 

“Well, at least the job is different,” John remarked. 

“Yes, except we have to go outside,” Mlidis said tersely. 

“What’s wrong with that?” John asked, curious.

“The air is foul and it’s very, very cold,” Pronix explained. 

“Don’t they give out breathing packs and jackets?” John inquired.

Mlidis shook his head. “Costs too much and we only do this for a few hours. Long enough to make us miserable, not long enough to kill us,” he said sardonically. 

Still John was looking forward to the excursion. Realizing where he was, he also knew there was a spaceport. He wondered if this was it, although he didn’t remember Mdorin telling him about a prison nearby. Presumably, he would find out when they went out.

A guard pressed a container in his hand. John looked at it, puzzled. “Drink it,” the Graxod commanded as he moved on to the next prisoner.

“It’s a high energy drink to help us while we’re outside. I’ve had it, it helps,” Pronix told John before drinking the entire contents of his mug, smacking his thin lips. 

When the guards began directing the prisoners to a section of crates and boxes near a great doorway, John shrugged and drank. His telepathic inquiries seemed to indicate that the drink was exactly what Pronix said it was, a sort of Graxod Gatorade. As he bent down to pick up a box, though, the warmth that usually accompanied ingestion of Graxod food turned into an intense, burning heat, a fire that coursed like a river through his body. John jerked up in shock and surprise, but then doubled over as cramping pain gripped his diaphragm and stomach. His lungs tightened and he gasped for air. The pounding of his heart seemed to intensify, making his head throb. He dropped to his knees. 

“Lord Commander!” Crinar’s voice sounded close and yet far away. John stared at his Graxod companion without really seeing him. The voice of a guard sounded very harsh in his ears, but he couldn’t understand the words. He bit his lip as spasms of pain enveloped him in waves. He wished he could rid himself of the reason for his agony, but his body didn’t seem to want to cooperate. 

“Lord Commander!” The demanding voices were strident, the pounding in his head increased. His breath came excruciatingly slow into constricted lungs. John sensed Crinar at his side, but was unable to acknowledge him. He felt his Graxod friend half lead, half carry him to a spot away from the outer doorway, and then gently help him to the ground. The pain continued. No more, he kept saying to himself…. No more.

He heard the harsh staccato voices pounding at him like waves against a cliff and he tried to make his hands move to cover his ears, but with no success. A slightly different voice bellowed over the other sounds, silencing them. Through unfocused eyes, John saw a Graxod in a purplish outfit standing over him. “What happened?” the Graxod said. Sucking in air to try and answer, only a soft moan escaped from his throat. 

“He seemed fine until he reached for some of the cargo,” someone else, Pronix, he thought, said.

“What else did he do? What had he just done?” the newcomer asked stridently. 

“He had just drunk the …. Oh, the tirzil drink. Do you suppose it made him ill, Doctor?”

“Take him to the infirmary. Quickly!” 

John’s consciousness wavered as several sets of hands grabbed at him, picking him up. Finally black obsidian darkness gathered around him, enfolding him like a blanket, almost gentle in its embrace. 

The respite didn’t last, as John periodically returned to semi-consciousness and became cognizant again of the discomfort of his body, only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. His whole world consisted in getting enough air into his lungs. 

John felt the cold of another place, he continued to hear voices that he couldn’t understand, his throat burned, constricted, but he continued desperately trying to draw breath…. He felt some foreign object forcing its way down his throat and tried to bat it away, but something or someone held his arms down. Oxygen deprivation caused him to see things that weren’t there…. Krelon walked past him, his voice harsh with rage. The Graxod in the purple shirt leaned over him. A slight sting in his arm was almost unfelt. Krelon was screaming, pacing, his voice blending with the throbbing in John’s skull. He wondered if anything was real anymore.

***** 

Prowlith smiled over her teacup, the tips of her canine teeth showing slightly, giving the appearance of one you would not want to cross. “I am gratified that John Robinson is still alive, or at least there is reason to presume so. This is indeed a dilemma, one that must be thought through carefully. To barge in with accusations and force would only succeed in getting your life-mate killed. We must approach this with subterfuge and cunning, much as you have done already with your robot.”

“I was hoping there would be something else we could do besides just sit here and wait for news from Max,” Maureen said hopefully. “I just didn’t know what action to take.”

“We must do something. To assume that your robot will have unfailing success is foolhardy,” Prowlith said, a slight growl forming deep in her throat. “As a duly appointed representative of the Confederation, I am in a position to visit the Graxod homeworld and see how the transitional government is progressing. As a member of the team that first traveled to that planet during the time of the attempted conquest of Earth, I certainly have that right. I have a desire to see the celebration they call a Milgrantiod and to visit Mdorin.”

“Yes, he was John’s second in command. It should also be my right as the Lord Commander’s wife to give the bad news to his former second in command in person,” Maureen said sardonically, getting into the spirit of things. 

“I am going, too,” a voice behind them stated decisively. Judy stood resolutely with Mark perched solidly on one hip.

“No, Judy, you can’t leave Mark….”

“Mom, you two have both said that you would probably not raise any suspicions if you went. There would be no doubt if you had the Lord Commander’s daughter and grandson along,” Judy pointed out.

“Bring Mark? Judy, you can’t mean that?” Maureen protested. 

“I do mean that. Prowlith has diplomatic status. We would fall under that. We will be perfectly safe,” Judy insisted. Seeing the dubious look on her mother’s face, she continued. “Mother, please, I have been left behind so much lately. I mean, I’m not blaming Mark or anything like that, but I want to help. I want to find Dad, too.”

Maureen paled. “No, you can’t.” Judy’s eyes filled with tears.

“What Judy says is true, but also think on this. The same forces that kidnapped John are still loose and presumably capable of taking the Lord Commander’s family,” Prowlith looked meaningfully at the young mother. “It will be bad enough for your mother to come with me, but to have you and your child …. That would be a temptation too difficult to resist. No, Judy, you must remain behind. When your father is rescued, he must have his children and grandchild here to welcome him.”

The tears coursed down her cheeks, but Judy nodded. Mark bounced in her arms and she sat him on the floor, where he promptly pushed himself off the ground and wobbled precariously on his chubby feet. Reaching for his mother’s leg, the toddler overcompensated and fell backwards on his rump. “I understand. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Mark,” Judy acquiesced, her voice soft.

“We will have to go through the proper channels, get the proper clearances, or there will be suspicions. Remember, we have nothing to hide, so we won’t hide anything.” Prowlith paused and then smiled a wolfish grin. “Except our purpose, that is.”

“How long will that take?” Maureen asked.

“Perhaps a few days, no more, I would imagine.” 

“Mom?” 

Maureen looked up and saw Penny staring at her with large hazel eyes. “I suppose you heard all of this as well. There are certainly no secrets on this ship,” she said, exasperated. 

“Yes, Mom. All I wanted to say is that I know what Judy means. I wish I could go, too. But I think you should take my flutter-dragons. They will be able to tell you if there is danger nearby.”

“I have Maggie,” Maureen pointed out. The zanling in question chirped from her post on the top of the navigational computer. The others squeaked in reply.

“But if you have Peter, Edmund and Susan, you will have four times the protection,” Penny replied. 

“Yes, that is a good point. If they don’t mind coming, I will certainly welcome their help,” Maureen said. Happy squeaks along with affirmative thoughts told her that they didn’t.


	10. Resolution

The little craft streaked through the kaleidoscopic streams of hyperspace, almost lost in the flowing, coalescing, dancing colors. On board, Max continued studying the faked log and other planted information that Pricoris had provided for him. Silverado, sitting quietly on the console, squeaked testily. 

“You chose to come with me. I cannot help it if you must eat less than flavorful nectar for the duration of this trip. It is at least nourishing,” Max explained. Silverado shook his wings and chirped. “Perhaps it would be better for you to visit your dragon world once we get to Graxod. You will have to hide when we get there anyway. It would raise suspicions if you were seen. And that way you can eat something more suitable.”

At a beeping sound, Max turned to the navigational console and read the information on the computer screen. “We are breaking out of hyperspace,” he told the little lizard and watched as the creature flew over to the tiny sleeping cubicle and hid under the blankets. The robot could not figure out what solace the zanling got from such futile attempts to hide from the transition, any more than he could figure out why the jump to and from hyperspace bothered the creatures in the first place. He would try to figure out that mystery out at a later date. 

As soon as the change back to regular space was made, the communications console began chiming at him. “Stay out of sight,” Max told the lizard. Turning on the link, he was immediately greeted by an older Graxod, whose features were almost gaunt with age. 

“What is your purpose in the Graxod system?” 

“I am returning what my master presumes to be a stolen spaceship,” Max answered evenly. 

“Give the registry,” the Graxod ordered. Max rattled off a string of symbols.

“From the warship, _Conquest _. You will land in Storm’s Port 73 and be ready to turn the craft over to Port Master Borenin.”__

____

____

“Negative. My master gave me orders to deliver this craft to the Graxod commander whose name was listed in the logs. I will only turn it over to that individual,” Max said. 

“It is inconsequential who you turn it over to. It will still end up in the hands of the military to whom it belongs,” the Graxod argued. 

“I will only turn this craft over to Mdorin cl Graxod. That is by orders of my master and I will not disobey those orders. It is not in my programming to do so,” Max intoned. The face on the other end of the communications link disappeared for a moment. Several loud voices were heard and then there was a slight murmuring as though another conversation was taking place in another part of the room. Throughout it all, Max sat placidly waiting. 

Soon the Graxod appeared back in front of the screen. “It will take some time to find Commander Mdorin cl Graxod. You are advised to land and then wait for the commander to contact you.”

“I will wait out here beyond orbit, until I can talk to Commander Mdorin and make arrangements with him,” Max insisted. 

The Graxod stared at him for a moment. “Very well, you recalcitrant pile of metal.” 

“I am only following my orders, sir. There is no need to become upset,” Max said as the Graxod hissed in irritation and reached for the cut-off switch. 

As soon as the link was ended, Silverado swooped over to the console and chirped. “I really have no idea how long it will take them to find Mdorin. If he is on Graxod, then I am hoping that their curiosity will cause them to have him contact us quickly.” Silverado chirped again. 

“If Mdorin is not on Graxod, then we will have to go back to Pricoris’ asteroid and do some more research,” Max said. The zanling chirped again. “Yes, that will take even more time. But somehow I do not think that will happen.”

*****

As John wavered in the netherworld between awareness and unconsciousness, he felt something placed over the bottom of his face. Cool air began rushing into his lungs, a machine regulating its flow, and John felt his chest slowly rise and fall. He let himself slip into languid torpor, reveling in this comfort that had seemed so long in coming. 

Dreams/nightmares became filled with tiny vignettes of scenes and people, most he had never encountered before. Small, Star Wars-like spacecraft darted back and forth across his vision, chasing each other, shooting each other, in little battles that didn’t seem to be part of a war. Krelon wavered across his consciousness, his death’s head in a grimace of anger. Then he saw himself before a large crowd, his wrists bound, then unbound, a plantiod-crinth thrust in his hands. It seemed very heavy, not natural as before. Krelon came after him, relentless, ruthless. It was all he could do to protect himself. Tired, so tired. Finally in a powerful swing, Krelon’s plantiod-crinth arced itself toward his neck and connected. His body lay twitching on the platform, headless, the crowds cheering their victor. 

Shocked, John’s mind reeled at the sight before it, but the scenes kept coming. Graxod soldiers attacking, massacring crowds of people who had been standing by watching the small ships race. The professor realized that almost all of those being slaughtered were non-Graxod, aliens of various types. The only exceptions were the executions of several Graxod. In horror, he recognized Mdorin, Crinar, Pronix and other Graxod who had worked with him either on the Conquest or in the prison. 

In a large chamber, much like the one where he had addressed Confederation representatives and Graxod alike, John saw slaughter continuing. Blood of various colors flowed, mixed and congealed on the floor of the room. After the noise, the cacophony of screams and shouts, there was silence, profound and ominous. Then John saw Krelon enter the chamber and laugh, a high-pitched hissing, snake-like parody of laughter. As he strode to a raised dais, he stepped on the bodies of the slain, not even bothering to avoid them. 

John began to hear voices, two of them, close by, and he finally understood that he was not dreaming that he had seen and heard Krelon, but he was actually hearing the Graxod leader. The visions/nightmares were the telepathic desires of the lord commander 

Oxygen entered his tissues, raised awareness, awareness of the other discomforts of his body. Using the techniques he learned on ssMrillorrin as well as the c.lir he had learned from Max, John tried to shove the throbbing pain in his head and joints aside, and to understand what the voices were saying. He resisted the temptation to open his eyes, feeling that he would learn more if the two Graxod thought he was unconscious. All the while, he felt a peculiar strangeness relying on a machine to do his breathing for him. 

“Is he going to live?” a voice demanded, John thought it was Krelon.

“At present, yes. The machine is pumping oxygen into his lungs. That will give me time to study his physiology and come up with an antidote for the tirzil that is still in his system. I was not in time to get all of the substance from his stomach.”

“As much as I enjoyed watching this rilis struggle for breath and as desperately as I would like to see him die this way, I want him kept alive for the Milgrantiod. I want to have the pleasure of disposing of him in a way that will show the Graxod race that what happened before was a fluke, a grotesque aberration.”

The physician was silent. John heard the sound of various scientific instruments being used and moved around. “I am studying a sample of his blood right now, Lord Commander. I should be able to come up with something to counter-act the poison soon. Then his recovery will be rapid.”

“Good, Joris. Make sure that it is. Keep me informed of his progress, the Milgrantiod is only four six-days away. At least get him well enough that he can stand before me with a plantiod-crinth in his hand, so that he can watch mine slice though his body! Krelon’s voice rose until the hissing laughter bubbled out of his body, the same hissing laughter that John had heard in his mind. Footsteps told him that the lord commander had left the room. John tried to probe into the doctor’s mind, but the poison kept him from focussing as well as he wanted to. His body’s demands began to encroach on his mind’s desires and unable to maintain consciousness any longer, he slept.

*******

Silverado squeaked as the light on the communications console flashed. Max strode over to the panel and as soon as the zanling had moved out of sight, turned on the video link-up. On the screen, a Graxod looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression. Then his small, dark eyes narrowed a bit and a slight intake of breath hissed through his teeth. 

“May I ask to whom I am speaking?” Max asked, wondering if this was Mdorin. This individual looked vaguely familiar.

“I am Mdorin cl Graxod.” 

“My master has authorized me to hand this craft over to you. How do you wish to take delivery?”

“Land at bay 29 in Storm’s Port. Wait for me to board and inspect the craft, in case there is a problem that we have to resolve with your master,” Mdorin replied.

“Very well, Commander, as you wish,” Max said and cut the communications. Turning to the little zanling, he said, “It is as I thought. They are very curious about our strange arrival. You might want to visit your zanling planet and nourish yourself before we meet Mdorin. I think it will be good if you are here when Mdorin arrives.” 

Silverado squeaked his agreement. In the silence that followed Max’s statement, the flutter-dragon concentrated, focusing on his destination. Suddenly he winked out of existence and Max was left alone. Carefully, the robot guided the little ship on the course that had been given to him and was soon in bay 29. He watched as two Krimlon guards took up positions near the entrance to the enclosure, but he made no attempt to make contact with either one. 

Soon a lone Graxod commander approached and made a request to enter the craft. “Please identify,” Max said into the speaker. 

“I am Mdorin cl Brilosian Graxod.” 

“Enter.” Max keyed in the access code and the airlock door opened with a quiet whoosh. Mdorin cautiously walked in, his slender fingers curled tightly around the hilt of the plantiod-crinth. “Welcome, Commander Mdorin,” Max greeted him. The door closed quietly behind the Graxod. 

“You are Lord Commander Robinson’s robot, are you not?” Mdorin asked. 

“I have been. I am a free entity now,” Max answered bluntly.

“Then why did you say you were returning this ship for your master?” Mdorin was equally blunt.

“A way to get here without suspicion,” Max answered. 

“Why?”

“Professor Robinson was kidnapped from our new home on Gamma in the Alpha Centauri system.” 

“And you believe it was by Graxod agents?” Mdorin asked bluntly, showing no emotion at his summation. 

Max gazed at the Graxod intently, trying to figure his disposition, wondering if he had chosen the wrong person to deal with. “Yes, Commander. All of the evidence points to it, even though the kidnappers were very clever to make it look like an accidental death.”

“It certainly comes as no surprise to me. There were many, including myself who came to respect and admire the Lord Commander, but there are others who would want blood vengeance,” Mdorin walked over to a seat and made himself comfortable. “Tell me the whole story and maybe I can make some sense of it.”

Max did so, leaving out no details. As he finished, Silverado appeared, squeaking imperiously. 

Mdorin looked up in surprise. “The Lord Commander’s companion.” 

“Yes, he came with me, although he periodically returns to the planet of his origins for short periods of time. He is demanding immediate action. I have found that these creatures are not very patient when the welfare of their bondlings is in question,” Max explained. 

“I have a theory as to where the Lord Commander is, but I need to make a few discreet inquiries,” Mdorin stated. 

“Where do you think Professor Robinson is?” 

“On Ghilaron, the outpost planet, where most of the military recruits go for training. And where there is a very high security prison.”


	11. Recovery and Subterfuge

Awareness returned like a fog creeping softly in the fields at sunrise. Wispy tendrils of consciousness were bound tightly in thick lethargy. As he awakened, John heard the clicking and chattering noises of machinery, but there was no weight on his face. Vaguely, he wondered why that was important, but dismissed the thought. It was just too hard to concentrate. Sleep returned. 

The next attempt at awareness was much easier. Opening his eyes, John looked around at what was obviously a sick bay. Then the memories came tumbling into his mind, jumbled, but clear enough to awaken his consciousness of the past. Krelon, a Milgrantiod, death… an urgency to do something, to prevent something.

“Well, you are finally awake.” 

John turned to the voice and saw the same Graxod who had cared for him when he had been poisoned. “Yes,” he answered, his voice sounding harsh and raspy. There was an accompanying soreness that caused him to reach up and rub under his bearded jaw. The physician held a cup to his lips. Remembering the last time he had drunk something, John balked.

“I have made sure that you will be given nothing harmful to your physiology. This is safe. It will ease the soreness of your throat and help to clear your head. I was not able to be gentle when I excised the poison from your system,” the Graxod assured him. 

Sipping, John felt the soothing coolness slip down his throat and experienced none of the burning sensation that had usually come with the ingestion of most Graxod food. He finished the drink. “Thank you,” he said. 

The doctor nodded. “You are understanding me without too much trouble?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, remembering the memories of Krelon’s thoughts. The executions of himself as well as those of his friends were still fresh in his mind, and John had no desire to reveal anything that might put anyone in further danger. 

“Your friends have taught you well,” the physician said, as though able to read his mind. John gazed at him a few seconds in alarm before turning away. 

Like a teakettle, the physician’s nose flaps whistled with his laughter. “Your friendships here have been very obvious, Professor. However, I blocked any punishments by the administrator, because I felt, as I assume you did, that learning the language was of greater importance than your isolation and mental discomfort.”

“Thank you,” John replied, feeling fully awake now and determined not to reveal any more to this man who was in league with Krelon. He felt the Graxod’s impatience for his full recovery and wondered what was in that drink he just ingested. John felt he now knew what the cow being fattened up for slaughter must feel like. It was not a pleasant thought. 

“By the way, I was told that you did not mind being called Professor, as opposed to being called a rilis.” 

“Would you rather be called rilis?” John shot back tersely.

The doctor laughed. “It is obvious that you are recovering nicely. See if you can sit up,” he said holding out his hand to help him. John accepted, realizing that this was not the time for a show of defiance or even self-reliance. Somehow, the professor felt that he would get further if the physician, and consequently Krelon, thought he was weaker than he actually was. It would be a balancing act. He had picked up from the doctor’s thoughts a suspicion about his telepathic abilities, so he had to be very careful in that regard as well. 

“What is the proper way to address you?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I am Joris, but my title is Doctor. How do you feel?” the Graxod asked. John watched Joris wipe his hand on his tunic and realized that human/Graxod relations had quite a ways to go. 

“A bit off balance, but not too bad, otherwise,” John answered. He was not lying; he did feel a bit woozy, as though he had gotten up too quickly. “By the way, my name is John Robinson, but my title is Professor.” 

“I understand, but be aware that I will neither be familiar nor overly respectful toward you. I will grant you the basic courtesy that is due a commander, however,” Joris told him.

“Thank you for being up front with me, Doctor.”

“Now let’s see if you can walk around,” Joris said. 

John grasped the doctors’ arm and slid off the side of the bed, feeling the Graxod’s impatience as a tangible thing. The professor felt wobbly, as though he had just finished running a long distance race, but his head was clear. 

“Hmm, tomorrow you will be able to begin a light work schedule. Within a few days, as your strength increases, you should be able to resume your normal duties. Until then I will monitor your progress closely,” Joris said. 

John looked sideways at the doctor and decided to do a bit of telepathic fishing. “If you don’t mind, then, I’ll let someone help me to my cell. Even though I just woke up, I’m still tired.”

“You will stay here until I declare you totally fit, Professor,” Joris said. 

Two or three days was the brief thought that he picked up from the doctor’s mind. It was very apparent to John that if there were any chance for escape, it would be while he was here in the sick bay. There didn’t seem to be any force fields at the doorways and he saw no guards in the room. In fact, John didn’t see any technicians or medical aides at all. He walked a few yards away from his bed and then turned back toward it. “I’m tired,” he said, leaning against the bed when he had reached it. 

“Rest, while I have your dinner brought up to you,” the doctor told him. John slid into the bed gratefully. Although he had a nervous desire to move around, his body felt weak, his legs wobbly. Again he wondered what was in the drink Joris had given him. He sat up in bed, tapping restlessly with his fingers, his eyes taking in the large medical facility. When a prisoner brought in a food tray, John noticed no one standing by the door. Realizing that didn’t preclude the presence of one, he nonetheless was encouraged by his observations. 

“Here is something that will aide in your recovery from the poisoning,” Joris told him, handing John a tablet after he had finished his meal. 

Unable to pick up all of Joris’ thoughts and with the doctor watching him carefully, John had no choice but to take the tablet. His suspicions that he had been given a sleeping pill were confirmed when he suddenly began feeling overwhelmingly stuporous. Sleep came quickly. 

The next morning, John was escorted to the work area, where he was directed to a much easier job than his previous one. During the lunch break his three friends sauntered over and sat down next to him. Remembering his ‘vision’ and the doctor’s words, he said, “I am a danger to you.” 

“How so?” Pronix said, glancing disdainfully at the roving guards. “They don’t bother me.”

“Krelon knows that you have befriended me and has plans for your execution at the time of the next Milgrantiod. He is planning a purge of everyone who even remotely sympathizes with a change in Graxod policy or who fraternizes with non-Graxod,” John hurriedly whispered as a guard came into view. 

“Where did you learn this?” Crinar asked. 

John tried to pick thoughts from the minds of his friends. Pronix was the easiest. “How much do you trust me?” John asked.

“You were our Lord Commander on the Conquest. As far as I’m concerned, you still are,” Mlidis said. “We would trust you with our lives.”

“Then pretend to be disaffected with me. Whatever method you choose to show it doesn’t matter. We cannot be seen together. It is essential if there is any hope of escape out of here,” John said, having felt some of their thoughts and knowing of their integrity. 

“We are loyal to you, we wouldn’t abandon you,” Mlidis protested. The others nodded.

“Then consider it an order. Just do it. I will communicate with you. Trust me that I know what I’m doing,” John said tersely. “I will communicate with you if I can, just don’t be surprised at the method.” He slowly rose to his feet and affected intense weariness, staggering and grabbing hold of the machine near which they had been resting. 

The three Graxod stared at him, puzzled and alarmed. Then Pronix jumped up, anger showing on his face. “It was a fluke that you were a Lord Commander. Nothing that weak could be a commander,” he said in disgust, stomping back to his workstation. Mlidis gazed at Pronix’s retreating form and back at John, then, he, too, jumped up and followed his Graxod companion. 

“Humans are weak,” was all Crinar said as he walked away. 

John shook his head and turned to the desk where he had been keeping a count of the items as they were packed into crates. Sitting down, he took up the counter and waited for the rest of the prisoners to begin loading the crates. As he looked up, he saw Pronix’s eyes on him, curious, anticipatory. _‘That was a good performance, Pronix. Keep it up,’ _John said telepathically, hoping the Graxod could understand him. It was much easier to ‘hear’ someone than it was to speak telepathically to that individual.__

____

____

Pronix stiffened and with widened eyes, stared at him. Then, recovering, he looked down at the floor. _‘Lord Commander?’ _came the tenuous thought.__

____

____

_‘Yes, it is I. I am slightly telepathic.’ ___

____

____

_‘So the rumors were true….’ _There was a long pause. John felt several emotions running through the Graxod’s mind. Among them was surprise, a slight revulsion, anger. Finally there was acceptance. _‘How do I do this?’ _____

_____ _

_____ _

_____ _

_____ _

_‘Just continue to think your words to me. I will be able to pick up most of what you want me to hear. It is harder to give you my thoughts. But I will do my best. You are the easiest.’ _John explained and then sent much the same thought to the others, with differing results, but he would trust Pronix to make sure the other two were aware of what he was communicating.__

__

__

____

____

_‘Have you been reading our minds all along?’ ___

____

____

_‘No, Pronix, I don’t intrude on my friends’ thoughts without great need. Trust me. Do you know when the next loading assignment will be?’ ___

____

____

_‘There is talk that it will be the day after tomorrow,’ _the Graxod answered.__

____

____

_‘Be watchful and ready for anything,’ _John told him, the slightest kernel of an idea drifting through his mind. After another hour, John set the counter down and lay his head on the little table. Not all of his actions were an act.__

____

____

That night, John was able to palm the sleeping tablet and then slid it under his pillow. Feigning sleep was easy; he was tired. As simple as his job had been, he still felt washed out after half a day of work. Even so, he woke up in the night and cautiously looked around. Seeing no one, he just as cautiously slipped out of his bed and padded around the sick bay, keeping an eye out for detection devices or guards. He had watched the preparation of the mixture that Joris gave him each morning for energy. In the cabinet where the ‘medicine’ was stored, John found a packet and hid it in the pocket of his pants. He hoped he didn’t need it during an escape, but he was a pragmatist, and realized that he was not yet fully recovered. It might be needed. 

The next day was long and lonely, with his companions staying well away from him. Finally about mid-afternoon he was escorted back to the sickbay. “Tomorrow you should be well enough to go back to your own quarters,” Joris announced. 

Again, John was able to palm and pocket the sleeping tablet. Feigning sleep, he heard Joris bustling around, giving his instructions to the one part time assistant that helped him, then heard the soft whooshing of the door as it closed. Taking no chances, the professor waited for a while longer before opening his eyes and looking around the darkened room. There was no one. From his probing of the doctor’s mind, John determined that there were no detection devices; Joris was relying on the medication and a lone roving guard. 

From what Pronix had told him, it would be cold outside. He looked around for any kind of coat or jacket. There was neither. Quickly, he made his bed so that it looked, at a quick glance, as though he was still in it. He realized that under closer scrutiny no one would be fooled. 

Looking around the room, taking time to search cabinets and drawers, John spied a set of goggles. Slipping them on, he found that they were night vision lenses. Elated, he clipped them to his belt. He had been worried that he would have problems navigating in the dark night over rough terrain. Many of the items he rifled through were unknown to him and he ignored them. Sighing, John found a knife and stealthily slipped toward the door. Even though he had seen no evidence of any kind of alarms or video cameras that didn’t mean there weren’t any. He would just have to be careful. 

As he reached for the button that opened the sliding door, he heard the muffled tapping of hard-soled feet. All he had time to do was to throw himself back against the wall before the door opened and a guard stepped in.


	12. Escape

Krelon watched Ghilaron recede from view. He was relieved and gratified at the outcome of his visit to the prison. Relieved that the human excrement would live and gratified that he would, within a short time exact his blood revenge on this creature, as well as the Graxod vermin who were going along with the changes in their society. Travesty! He spat on the deck. 

“Lord Commander? Your visit had satisfying outcomes?” a subordinate asked. 

“Yes, Wiclor, I believe it did,” Krelon said, continuing to watch the planet fade. “But I think I would like more.” 

“Oh?” Wiclor probed cautiously, knowing of the mercurial temperament of the Lord Commander. 

“I wish we had taken the whole family. I would like to have that rilis watch as I executed each member of his clan and then have the pleasure, in a womgrantiod, of destroying him.”

“Would it not be possible to still do so? The settlement on that planet they call Gamma is primitive and all we would have to do is destroy their communications and means of transportation. I would imagine that by the time Earth, which is woefully inadequate in defenses, finds out and protests to that accursed Confederation, it will be too late.”

“If we destroy all evidence, they would think it was an isolated raid of some kind and spend their time mourning the loss of a colony and trying to figure out what happened. There is no indication they believe the human is still alive, is there?” Krelon asked.

“No, My Lord, before they left the planet, the scouts said in their reports there was a complete belief in the demise of their patriarch,” Miclor said.

“Work out the details, but I want a force heading to that planet before this six-day cycle is over,” Krelon ordered. Miclor saluted and turned on his heel, issuing orders to his subordinates. “And bring me updates, every half-day,” he called out as an afterthought. 

____________

Mdorin gazed out of the viewport and sighed. Now that they were here on Ghilaron, he wondered what the next move would be. Slight whishing noises heralded the approach of the robot. It amazed him that such a construct could initiate and execute a plan of action such as Max had done. 

“What do we do now?” Max asked. “I had planned on finding you, but had really not thought much beyond that.”

Nodding, Mdorin continued looking out the window. “I need to find out if the Lord Commander is actually in the prison as I suspect he is.”

“I deduce that making open inquiries is not the way we should proceed.” 

“No, I think I can make a few discreet ones, however, at the training facilities. I remember as a fresh cadet, that often the prison guards would come and enjoy our entertainment facilities. The drink would sometimes loosen their tongues and we would get the benefit of their prison stories,” Mdorin mused aloud. His small, dark eyes shone with anticipation at the bit of subterfuge. Smiling a death’s head smile, he added. “I never thought I would be at the initiating end of such a trick.”

“When do we do this?”

“We don’t. I will go into Terenga Facility. You would bring too much attention to me. If the Lord Commander is actually here, then I will return and we can devise a plan of action for his rescue.”

“I understand, Commander,” Max said. “Silverado and I will check out the ship systems and keep the craft at ready.” 

“Yes, that would be a good idea. The less you show yourself, the better. And Silverado should not show himself at all,” Mdorin said. 

Later that day, Mdorin casually sauntered from the spaceport to the nearby training facility. As he passed through the airlock, he jerked off the breathing mask, sighing in relief. Various sights, sounds and scents greeted him as he remembered the days of his young cadet-hood. He had entertained such high hopes in those days. He was going to the top; he would be a Lord Commander of his own ship someday. 

As it turned out, he was, although briefly and only by the relinquishment of the post by his former commander, John Robinson. That had been the death knell to his career, but he harbored no resentment to the Lord Commander. He would be forever grateful to the trust and respect that was shown to him by the human. Commander Robinson had given him the opportunity to serve as second in command of the one of the largest warships in the Graxod fleet. He was grateful. 

As he walked into a large entertainment hall, he grinned, his thin lips stretched over slightly pointed teeth. He remembered the irony of the fact that the best Lord Commander he had served under was, by trade, a teacher and a scientist. With a sigh, Mdorin thought that perhaps he would not have made Lord Commander under the old system; he found the other commanders he had served under to be mercurial, cruel and callous to the needs of the crew. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mdorin spied a man in a guard’s uniform. Casually walking over to his table, he addressed the guard. “Would you care if I sat with you? I will buy a bottle of laeris for the two of us.” The man looked up with tired eyes and grunted something unintelligible, then he motioned to the other chair. With a wave of his hand and flickering of his long slender fingers, Mdorin ordered the drink and two glasses. When the jug arrived the guard twisted off the stopper and poured a liberal amount of the liqueur into his glass. He looked gratefully at Mdorin, who poured a small amount into his own glass. Mdorin’s noseflaps whistled softly as he smelled the contents of his glass. He sipped lightly as his tablemate gulped down his glassful and poured more. 

“You from the prison?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“Yes. Finally got some leave after two six-days. Ill-begotten bureaucrats!” 

“No days off in that long a time? That’s unconscionable!” Mdorin declared. The other nodded. “Why in the world did they make you work that long?” 

“Had a big shot come in.” 

“Really? A Lord Commander?” 

“Yes, but don’t ask more. Not supposed to tell you that much,” the guard said as he looked into the amber-colored contents of his glass. “Who are you?” 

“I am a former second in command of a warship,” Mdorin said, taking a chance on this man’s disposition. “He wasn’t a popular Lord Commander and I supported him.” Watching the man gulp down his third glass, Mdorin decided to banter awhile until the tart tasting liquid began its work. Sometime later, he judged the laeris was working; the guard looked happily mellow. 

“This Lord Commander wasn’t very popular either, especially with Commander Krelon.” The guard laughed as though he had made a great joke. 

Mdorin looked suitably impressed. “Commander Krelon? He is very powerful.”

“Powerful enough to have this prisoner kidnapped from another planet right out from under the very faces of his family.” 

Mdorin kept his elation under check. He knew that the individual in question was Lord Commander Robinson. Looking suitably impressed, Mdorin prodded, “He must have done something terribly wrong to have aroused Krelon that much.” 

The guard leaned over. “He was born human,” he whispered. 

“You mean…?” 

“Yes, the human who won the womgrantiod from Krelon’s brother, but don’t you tell anyone. Don’t tell anyone I told you this. Krelon would have my hide on his wall.”

“Of course not,” Mdorin said in a low tone. He prodded more information from his companion and when the man was too inebriated to tell him any more, he politely excused himself and left. As he looked up through the skylight, he noticed the muted twinkle of stars. The Graxod had not realized that he had been in the facility so long. It was time to go back to the ship and plan for the rescue. Fortunately, the guard had divulged other information that would come in useful.

*****

John held his breath and remained stone still, willing the Graxod to not see him. His shoulder blades seemed to be trying to bore into the wall. The man glanced around the room, walking in far enough to see his bed, then he turned and looked directly at him. But the gaze seemed to be focused beyond him; there didn’t seem to be any recognition of anything amiss. Without blinking the guard turned to the door and passed on into the hallway. 

Surprise paralyzed him for a moment and John kept gazing at the door, waiting for other guards to come in. The thoughts he had been able to pick up from the Graxod indicated that he really had not been aware of his presence. John had no idea as to whether it was his telepathic desire or just plain dumb luck in the dimness of the room; the man had not been wearing any night goggles.

Whatever the reason, John was duly grateful and slipped silently to the door. It was past time to leave. It would probably take all night to get to the spaceport. Lack of a jacket would hopefully be compensated by the speed of his flight. Hopefully he would find a breathing mask on his way to the outside airlock. Regardless, the air was breathable for a limited time to the Graxod and perhaps even more breathable for a human. That was a bridge to be crossed when he reached it. 

The hallways were silent, almost eerily so, but John remembered the way to his workstation and padded silently down the empty corridors. At each turning, he stopped and listened, with his eyes as well as with his mind. Right now he wished that Silverado were here. He felt oddly ‘mind-deaf,’ as his friend Talon had once put it, without his bondling around to augment his pitiful telepathic powers. Shrugging, John dismissed wishful thinking and concentrated on getting to an outside airlock as quickly as he could. Several more turns of the corridor and John was in the workstation where he had spent so much of his recent waking hours the past month or more. 

As he stood near the outer door, a feeling of uneasiness came over him. Nowhere did he find a breathing apparatus, nor did he find a jacket. The door to a supply room was locked and he didn’t want to risk setting off an alarm trying to force the lock. He could only try the air and see what it was like. Drinking a substance that was supposed to help the Graxod prisoners cope with the outside elements for short periods of time had poisoned him. Perhaps, his physiology would work conversely and he would be able to handle what his fellow prisoners could not. 

The lights were dimmed to the point that John needed to use the night vision goggles. Adjusting the straps, he slipped them over his head and blinked when the room brightened to an astonishing clarity. As he approached a small door near the docking bay, the professor watched for any kind of surveillance devices. Seeing nothing obvious, he felt around the doorway and found wiring. Pulling it away from the door, he examined the wires, and followed them to their source, which was a hole in the wall. He examined the opposite end and found it to be linked to a small matchbox-sized device near the latch. With his knife, John cut the wire near the wall and left it hanging there. 

Quietly he released the latch and gently swung open the door. Shutting it behind him, he made the same examination of the second door and found nothing. He released the latch on that door and gently swung it open, listening for any sounds behind him. Cold air puffed in his face and ruffled his hair. Pushing the loose strands out of his eyes, John breathed short breaths at first and then more deeply. He felt no pain in his chest, no lightheadedness, and no immediate indications that he was taking in anything that would harm him. A glow in the distance gave him direction. At the spaceport he would steal a space ship and get away from this accursed planet. 

John felt no need to worry about what might be. His die was cast; he would make the fastest time he could and hope for the best. Shutting the door behind him, he crept stealthily along the wall of the building, surveying the area around the prison, watching for guards, listening telepathically. Finally the professor concluded that the Graxod were so assured of the impossibility of escape, probably due to the elements, that they felt no need of any other types of guards. 

There was an outcropping of rocks a hundred yards away. Taking several deep breaths, John readied himself for what he knew would be a strenuous night. He only hoped that he was up to it. Patting the side pocket of his pants, he felt the packet of tablets he had filched from Joris the night before. Whatever the cost, he had to get a ship and return home; had to give warning before the Milgrantiod.


	13. All Hell Breaks Loose

“Robot, you’ve been tinkering around for two days now. What in the world are you putting together?” Don asked, peering at the array of parts and tools strewn across a workbench in the cargo bay.

“I believe that it is foolish to not have a means of protection for this colony.”

“We have weapons.” 

“Major, may I point out that a few laser pistols and rifles do not a defense make. And the puny force field is totally inadequate,” the Robot said tersely. He almost sounded testy. “And I really do not know who might attack. However, the kidnapping of Professor Robinson showed me how easy it would be for anyone to come and do you and the rest of the family harm. I am programmed to protect all of you. I failed to protect Professor Robinson. I must do what I can to defend the rest of you.”

Don scratched behind his ear while he considered what the Robot said. “You have an excellent point. What are you working on?” 

“I am trying to rebuild the force field generator so that it will protect the entire colony.”

Don whistled. “That’s quite a large forcefield, Robot. Any luck?”

“Yes, Major, I believe that I am making progress. I will have a prototype ready for testing in another day, if my calculations are correct.” 

“Okay. And thanks, Robot. I appreciate what you are doing for my family,” Don said as he turned away. Ignoring the elevator, Don climbed up the metal ladder. Striding to the observation deck window, he looked over the valley that had held so much promise just a scant few months ago. Judy and the kids were working in the large garden. Mark was playing in his portable playpen. Or rather, he appeared to be trying to escape it. It astonished him at the speed at which his son was growing. Josh Black crossed the field and tried to take the hoe from Penny’s hand, gesturing for her to rest. She just pointed behind her to a stack of tools. 

Don chuckled as the boy walked over to the pile and chose another hoe. Josh was learning that the Robinson women were very independent. Beyond his family he saw recently cultivated gardens of the other members of the colony. The soil was rich and would grow almost anything. It was a good place. The only flaw he could see was the absence of John and Maureen. With that thought, a frown crossed his features. There should be something he could do…something, anything. He slapped his hand on the console in frustration.

Jimmy Doolittle flew up the stairwell and landed on his shoulder. _‘Do not berate yourself. Maureen and Max will find John.’ _As the little lizard rubbed under his chin, Don felt himself relax a bit. Looking back out the observation window, he noticed Josh and Penny laughing easily over something as they worked side by side. He watched as Mark grasped the top of his playpen and bounced up and down. Suddenly, Mark turned to his tiny blue-green flutter-dragon and stared at him. Then he began pulling himself up and over, his toes finding purchase on the netting of the pen. With a gasp, Don realized that his son was actually going to be able to climb over the top railing. Rushing down the ramp, he saw Judy turn around and dash toward the baby before he could open his mouth to say anything. Both of them reached the playpen at the same time, catching Mark just as he pulled himself over the edge.__

____

____

Aurora and Jimmy fluttered nearby, squeaking loudly at the tiny lizard. It gave a tiny chirp that sounded almost penitent. “His lizard told him how to climb out and he did,” Judy said incredulous. 

Don felt his child’s desire to go play in the dirt. “Evidently he saw all of you working in the dirt and he wanted to play in it, too,” Don mused. 

“Dear, I have known that for over an hour. He is incessant sometimes.”

“Oh,” Don murmured, watching the lizards curiously. They were all looking skyward. Suddenly a claxon-like alarm sounded from the Jupiter. 

“Warning, warning!” The Robot’s voice intoned from the outside speakers. “Alien ships approaching. They do not answer my communication. Consider them hostile. Take cover immediately. Warning, warning! ”

The sound of the warning claxon was immediately followed by an explosion that disintegrated the communication tower. Don shouted as he ran back to the Jupiter II. “The community center. Go there.” Everyone dropped their tools and ran for the various shelters. Penny jerked up in alarm. As she dropped her shovel, she felt Josh grab her hand and jerk her toward the community center. It was not much more than a roof on support beams, but it afforded the colony a place to gather out of any inclement weather.

Penny stumbled over newly turned clots of earth, found her footing and then fell into a run next to Josh. Screams of fear and anger competed with the whine of numerous small attack vessels darting overhead. They looked hauntingly familiar to the girl, but she wasn’t able to remember where she might have seen them before. Her mind was too numbed from the horror of the attack.

As the pair reached the building, they were pushed and jostled by other colonists. Marlee Johnston, Dr. Carl Johnston’s youngest daughter, looked up at her with eyes filled with tears, her lower lip quivering. Penny grasped her by the hand. “It will be all right, Marlee,” she said, trying to reassure the younger girl. 

“Who are they? Why are they doing this?” Marlee asked. Penny followed the terrified girl’s gaze and saw a somewhat large ship landing in the field. A hatch opened and well armed soldiers poured out of the aperture. They were tall and thin, their helmets covering up skull-like faces with small dark eyes, thin lips and membranous flaps where a nose should be. “Graxod!” Penny and Josh exclaimed together. 

An ornately uniformed Graxod followed the soldiers out of the ship. After looking disdainfully at the freshly turned soil, he stood at the base of the ramp. He motioned several of his men into the Jupiter, then called out, “I want the family unit of the human called John Robinson! We know they are here. Do not try to hide them. If they do not appear immediately, we will begin killing the youngest children.” As if to emphasize his statements, he pointed to a five year old boy. 

“No!” a voice from the edge of the crowd called out. Penny gasped when she saw Judy step out of the crowd. Her sister was empty handed, evidently having handed Mark to someone else. 

“There are more. You are one of the spawn, not his bonded,” he stated, frowning. The Graxod looked around, his small dark eyes surveying the humans, with a look of great distaste, as though he had been asked to go through a trash heap. 

Penny trembled with fear, but she resolutely pushed her way through the group of humans and stood quietly between them and the Graxod ship. She could pick up the seriousness of the alien’s threats from their minds. “I am John Robinson’s youngest daughter,” she said quietly.

“I am John Robinson’s son,” Josh said, suddenly by her side. He gave her a tiny hand sign and a fervent thought when she turned to him in shock. A Graxod soldier looked at him carefully and then motioned both of them over to their ship. 

“The human would also have had a grandchild by now. That one,” he said, pointing to Judy, “was carrying a child at the time of the betrayal.” The Graxod leader looked into the crowd. Penny was beginning to panic. They were also expecting Mother to be here as well. “And where is his bonded and that one’s bonded?” he said, pointing to Judy again.

__________

After his warning shout, Don didn’t hesitate, he ran inside the Jupiter and grabbed a laser rifle and pistol. As he rushed back out, he found himself confronting a Graxod and several guards at the entrance of the Jupiter II. Anger and frustration overwhelmed and he brought the pistol up to fire. A quick stabbing pain shot up his arm. Looking down he saw a small line of red along the outside of his arm from the elbow to his wrist. A throbbing set in that caused him to bite his lip.

Seeing the futility of his actions, he dropped the weapon at a motion from the Graxod. “That is wise, risil dung,” the sibilant voice told him. Don noticed translators clipped on the belts of most of the Graxod.

“What do you want?” he spat angrily. 

“We want the Robinson family.”

“What?” Don asked, incredulous. He tried to push the pain of his burned arm to the back of his mind and concentrate on what the Graxod wanted. “Why?”

“So that the blood debt will be complete,” his adversary said tersely.

“Blood debt?” 

“The blood debt that Lord Commander Krelon cl Braxir/Graxod demands of the family of John Robinson for the murder of his brother, Kalingdor cl Braxir/Graxod,” the Graxod elaborated. 

“You already have the blood of John Robinson. Why the rest of his family?” Don decided to continue the pretense that was begun weeks ago. 

“Because the Lord Commander has demanded it.”

To his horror and with Jimmy’s help, Don was able to detect a bit of what else the Graxod had in mind. When they were captive, the rest of the colonists would be destroyed. There would be no witnesses. His mind reeled, trying to think of a way to not only save his family, but also the rest of the humans in the valley. He felt as though caged squirrels were racing in his brain. What to do? What the hell could he do?

“The rest of the members of the Robinson family will come out of hiding, now, or we will begin firing on habitations,” the Graxod soldier demanded. 

“Well if you do that, then you might just kill one of the Robinsons and then what would you have?” Don said, stalling for time to think of something, anything.

“I will start with the children,” the alien said, pointing his pistol at a small boy near the fringes of the crowd huddled under the nearby shelter. “And kill them.”

Don’s eyes widened in horror and he saw, in despair, that Judy and Penny had already given themselves up. He wondered if there was a chance that the Robot might have something he could use against the invaders. “Is it possible to bring a few things for my child? He needs special care.” Maybe if he stalled. 

“No, come now.” 

“Do you think Lord Krelon would be happy if one of the family died in transit?”

There was a moment when both the Graxod and the human gazed at each other. “Be quick.” The Graxod motioned to one of his subordinates. The alien walked up to Don and followed him into the spaceship. That would make it harder, but he would stall as long as he could. As he entered the stairwell, the Graxod grabbed him by the arm, saying something in his language that Don couldn’t understand. To his gratification, Don noticed that the soldier had no translator. He pointed down and climbed down the ladder, hearing the Graxod climb down behind him. 

“I guess you won’t be worrying about the people in the community building, will you?” he asked. The Graxod just hissed something at him and motioned him to hurry. Entering his and Judy’s room, he surreptitiously pushed the intercom button for the lower level and kept ‘bantering.’ “It would really be too bad it someone tried to blow up that building and all of the people inside, wouldn’t it?” He reached for a knapsack and rustled around, presumably to find diapers and clothing for the baby. “But now if there was a way to protect the other colonists from a murderous attack, that would be an accomplishment.” The soldier prodded him in the back and motioned him to hurry. 

“I understand your meaning, Major,” the Robot’s voice came over the intercom. Jimmy Doolittle, sitting on the bed, chirped apprehensively. 

_‘I want all of you to go and hide somewhere. I know they aren’t planning on taking any of you. If you don’t go away, they will kill you,’ _Don told Jimmy. With a sad chirp, the little zanling flapped his wings and flew out the door. The guard looked at the departing creature with narrowed eyes, and then whipped out his pistol and aimed it at Jimmy. Don bumped into the Graxod just as he fired. The wild shot scored a black line along the ceiling of the corridor, and Don suddenly found himself on the floor of the small cabin, his head reeling from the soldier’s hard blow.__

____

____

Grabbing him by the collar, the Graxod jerked him to his feet and pointed to the knapsack. He pointed up. Don grabbed some food from the galley as they passed. There was no telling what they would be fed, but he wanted Mark to have something he was used to. As he started up the ladder, the major saw a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Will, who disappeared before being detected. _‘Good boy, Will. See if the Robot can do anything to protect the others when we are taken.’ ___

____

____

_‘Sure thing, Don. We understood perfectly what you wanted. Then I’ll be up. They’ll know there is another human on board,’ _Will told him.__

____

____

_‘Be very careful, Will.’_

____

____

As he climbed the top level of the ship, he saw a Graxod smashing the butt of his laser rifle across the communications panels. His anger raged to the surface, overwhelming the tightly kept control, “Leave the ship alone, you son of a.…” The Graxod turned in one fluid movement and his weapon flashed. Pain and shock blended into a pitch-dark oblivion. His last thought was that he had blown it again. 

_________

Esther stepped out of the crowd, Mark in her arms. His large blue eyes gazed steadily at the invaders, but he didn’t cry or make any kind of sound. She looked apologetically at Judy, whose attention seemed to be elsewhere. The flutter dragons were curiously absent. “I am John Robinson’s bonded and this is his grandchild.” Only then did Judy turn to her, shock on her face. 

Turning to his subordinate, the leader asked, “Is this all of them?” The subordinate nodded. “Good, let us go. And leave nothing.” 

Several people, having heard the quiet pronouncement, started crying quietly. As the hatches clanged shut behind the retreating alien’s and their prisoners, a voice rang out from the Jupiter II. “Remain in your places.” It was repeated and was so forceful that no one moved. 

A slight buzzing was heard, glaring, almost blinding light burst from the retreating Graxod ships, and then there was darkness, as though a heavy curtain had been thrown over the frightened people. 

__________

Inside the Jupiter II, it was a scene of organized chaos. Still stunned by Josh’s substitution for him, as well as the Graxod’s attack on Don, Will raced to the Robot. “Robot, we have to try that force field now, not later. They are ready to leave.” 

“Will Robinson, I cannot activate it with the Graxod inside. They will have to leave. If they do, then I can test the system. There is only a 75% probability of success, however.”

“I don’t care if there was only a ten percent probability. You have to try it,” Will retorted. 

“A holographic image is a very good idea, Will Robinson. It is a good thing you have been working on the holographic imager lately. Let me calibrate the connections in my computer bank…” The whirring of the Robot’s servomechanisms lasted for a few agonizing minutes. 

“Yes, I believe that it will work, if the force field succeeds.”

Fingers of worry crept up and down the boy’s back, but he tried to shove his anxiety to the back of his mind. The rest of the connections were made in silence. As the Graxod ships hurled themselves into the air, he and the Robot pushed the buttons to activate the force field and hologram.


	14. Reunions

As he began the climb through the hills surrounding the prison, John had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. So far the only discomfort was that of cold. It did get quite cold here, but the air seemed adequate. He felt no discomfort; instead he felt the euphoria of success. The Graxod were so sure the atmosphere itself was a good enough deterrent against escape that there had been no patrolling guards, nor were there any detection devices. If there were, they weren’t functioning. 

He had stayed in the shadows, running at a crouch, stopping and listening; feeling like a rabbit trying to escape a hound. It had been nerve-wracking; he kept waiting for the sound of alarms, the hiss of a laser rifle shot. He had even been listening to the bay of dogs all the while reminding himself that he was on Ghilaron, far, far away from Earth or the movies that caused him to even think about such ridiculous things. 

John listened again. Turning before him, he focussed on the glow in the distance that indicated the spaceport. If he could only make it tonight… no, he had to make it tonight! He would be able to steal a ship and pilot it back to Gamma, back to his family. From what he had been able to pick up from the guards, the distance wasn’t more than ten or twelve miles. Easily navigated in the space of a night of brisk walking. With those thoughts in his mind, John started along a track that was headed toward his destination. 

Quiet night sounds accompanied his flight. Tiny chirps, squeaks and hums. All indicated small, non-threatening animals, but he continued watching and listening carefully to everything around him. The urge to run was strong, but John tried to pace himself, even though he figured that someone would surely discover his escape before morning. 

With the night vision lenses, John was able to avoid tripping over the stones that were strewn everywhere as well as roots of gnarled and twisted trees. The moon’s rays were intensified and the glow of the spaceport was lit almost to daytime brightness. Before him rose a small but rugged mountain. He picked his way around boulders and slipped and slid over gravel and loose, sandy soil. Finally, John reached the summit and went over it, half-sliding down the other side to the bottom. He stopped a moment to catch his breath before starting up the next mountain. 

After another mountain and several more hills, he looked back to judge his progress. The prison still looked entirely too close, while the lights of the spaceport seemed just as far away as they had when he began. With a sigh, John gazed at the way before him and noticed that there was a natural path between two hills leading in the general direction he wanted to go. 

Quickening his pace, the escapee moved along the path steadily. While still not progressing as fast as he would like, he realized he was free, making progress toward his ultimate goal--a spaceship, his friends’ freedom and his family. The glow on the horizon enticed him, encouraged him and gave him hope. 

Coming over the crest of a hill, he paused a moment and took in a deep breath. The sharp tang of the night air caused him to shiver. A slight pain in his side forced him to sit and rest for a moment. Drawing his arms tightly around his body to conserve warmth, John gazed up toward the stars. 

Suddenly, he jerked awake, chagrined at his inattentiveness, and he slowly got to his feet, stomping the ground to work circulation back into his cold feet. His muscles felt like pudding and he reached into his pocket, drawing out the little packet with the energy tablets. There were six. Tossing one in his mouth, John took it with several swallows from the tiny thermos he had been able to pilfer from the sick bay. Soon he felt the surge of vitality he had experienced before and John started down the hillside toward his goal… freedom. 

Time meant nothing; he continued toward the spaceport. When he tired and his muscles began to jump with fatigue, he took another tablet. Onward, steadily marching, the glow in the distance continued to draw him forward. _‘Maureen, I am coming,’ _he mentally chanted. His mind saw her face, he imagined the reunion, he could almost feel her touch, the warmth of her body against his….__

____

____

A sharp pain in his foot and the vision dissolved. John hit the ground hard, gravel burning his palms and biting into his knees, bringing him back to total reality. “Get a grip, Professor,” he muttered to himself, as he rubbed his bruised extremities. Soon a burning sensation crept up his legs, heralding cramps. Jumping up, John rubbed and walked the soreness out. He was tired, but this was no time to stop for a rest. It was time for another pill. There were only three left. Looking up at the ever-enticing horizon, he went ahead and took one. One more and then he would take no more until he reached the spaceport. There had to be one left to give him the energy he needed to actually steal a ship.

More miles, more time, more hope. The last tablet rested safely in his pocket; the last spurt of energy rushed through his body. He had to reach the port; it was imperative. His friends were counting on him. His family needed him; he needed them. He continued onward, jogging when the terrain allowed him to, walking swiftly when it didn’t. Letting momentum carry him down a more steeply inclined slope, he started up the next… and had to stop. His heart was racing, banging in his chest like the mallet on a kettledrum. For a short while, he told himself. Only a few minutes. Sitting against a boulder, John drew in a lungful of the crisp air, and watched meteors streak across the sky. _‘Cold. So hellaciously cold,’ _he thought, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. He drew his knees in and laid his forehead against them. His heart still hammered its thumping chorus, although it had slowed somewhat. His hissing breath calmed.__

___‘Good. Be ready to leave in a short while. Soon, Maureen, soon. We’ll be together. I promise.’ _He would rest for just a bit more. His eyes closed. His breathing slowed even more.__ _ _

_____ _

_____ _

__________ 

Mdorin keyed the airlock door and walked into the tiny ship. Max looked at him expectantly; the Lord Commander’s small companion gazed unwaveringly into his face. His eyes seemed to be asking questions, where, when, how soon. Then the Graxod remembered that the creature was telepathic; of course he was asking questions. Mdorin was shocked he was hearing them.

“The Lord Commander is being held in the Terenga Facility. I also have information that may help us in an escape attempt,” he informed his compatriots. “Tomorrow there will be an outside detail, loading a large transport ship.”

“At the spaceport?” Max asked.

“No, unfortunately they don’t do that. The ships land on a small field right near the prison. There won’t be many guards; the air precludes escape. We can’t stay out in it long.” He paused and let the robot assimilate the information. 

“Then can we assume that the two of us should be able to affect the rescue of Professor Robinson?” Max asked.

“You can definitely assume that. We should be able to get the Lord Commander quickly and be gone before anyone can stop us.”

“What if he isn’t on the work detail?” Max asked, considering all possibilities. 

“When a ship that size has to be loaded, almost all of the prisoners are assigned to the detail. The chances that he isn’t with them will be very remote. But that is a chance we have to take. There won’t be a better opportunity for some time.”

Silverado chirped happily and flapped his wings. _‘Good, we will find….’ _A shrill squeak of alarm stopped him. _‘John!!’ _he cried and suddenly disappeared.____

_____ _

_____ _

“What happened?” Mdorin asked. He had heard the cries of the zanling, but had no idea what they meant. 

“I am not sure,” Max commented. “Let me consider…. I can only surmise that Silverado was able to make some contact….” Almost at his feet a body appeared. Silverado clung to the man’s chest, his tiny, clawed hands grabbing at the dirty and threadbare shirt. The man was bearded, his hair somewhat long, but Max realized who it was within a heartbeat. “Professor Robinson!” Kneeling down, he let his diagnostic systems take charge and he began an examination. 

“Is he dead?” Mdorin asked, his voice hissing in surprise and shock. 

“No, but near enough to it. The breathing is shallow, the heartbeat slow, his temperature is below normal. The signs point to hypothermia and dehydration. We must get him in the bunk and cover him,” Max explained. Soon they had the human in the lone bed. Within minutes, the robot reported a slight rise in temperature. “Let me make something warm for him to drink in the replicator.”

“He lived on something called coffee on the Conquest,” Mdorin suggested.

“Yes, but I will program the computer to leave out the caffeine. I detect that Professor Robinson has too many stimulant properties in his system already,” Max replied. The drink was soon made. Silverado squeaked and Max returned to the patient, who had begun shivering violently. “His heart rate and breathing are improving. That is good. Hopefully he will return to consciousness soon.” He watched for another minute and then turned to the Graxod. “I believe we should be ready to lift off by sunrise. We have no reason to remain. To stay longer would risk the professor’s safety.” Silverado chirped his agreement. 

Mdorin nodded. “I agree. It is imperative that the Lord Commander be taken to a secure place.”

“I will begin the pre-flight checklist and you get the clearance. Right now, the safest place I can think of is Pricoris’ asteroid,” Max said. During the next few hours, the robot worked tirelessly, checking the ship’s systems and preparing for take-off. At sunrise, Mdorin contacted the spaceport authority and received clearance. Max switched on the repulsors and the ship began to gently lift off from the ground. 

Silverado watched the proceedings from his perch on his bondling’s chest. A slight deviation caused him to turn his attention back to John, and a questing thought told him that his friend was waking up. In a moment, hazel eyes were staring into golden ones. The look was dazed. _‘My friend, you are safe now. We are going to leave soon,’ _the flutter-dragon explained.__

____

____

John looked around the small ship, his eyes still showing confusion. “Silverado? Where are we?”

“Lord Commander, here is something Max made for you,” Mdorin said, holding the cup for his commander to drink from. After a few seconds John pushed it away and pulled himself to a sitting position. Mdorin helped him and then handed him the cup again. It was soon drained and handed back. 

Looking around, still confused, John wondered how he came to be on this tiny ship with his former second-in-command and his friends. Over Mdorin’s shoulder he saw Max at the controls of the ship. “How?” was all he asked. 

_‘I felt your presence and found you. Then I brought you here. Now we will take you to a safe place,’ _Silverado explained.__

____

____

“A safe place?” he asked, still wondering what was going on. Slight turbulence shook the tiny craft and his mind finally assimilated some of what was going on. “Are we leaving the planet?” 

“Yes, Lord Commander, we are going to a place that Max is familiar with. It will be a safe place for you to recover in. We can contact your family as well,” Mdorin explained. 

“No, we can’t leave the planet yet,” John said, throwing off the blanket. 

“Lord Commander, it is imperative that we get you to a safe place. You almost died out there. You are still weak,” Mdorin said, trying to get the human to lie back down. 

“You don’t understand, Mdorin. I made a promise to several of my fellow prisoners, men who served on the Conquest. I told them I would be back and help them escape. We have to go back,” John said fervently. 

The whine of the repulsors suddenly ceased as they achieved orbit, and Max walked over to John. “I am glad that you are conscious, Professor. But what was I hearing about going back and rescuing someone?”

“Max, I gave my word to three of my fellow prisoners that I would come and rescue them when I had reached the spaceport and taken a ship.” 

“Professor, you are in no shape to even consider any kind of a rescue,” Max countered. 

“Like hell I’m not. I’m not leaving those men down there,” John stated vehemently.


	15. When a Good Plan Comes Together

Will stared as the invader’s spaceships screamed off into the sky. Suddenly the horizon was obscured by something opaque, as though a glass bowl had been turned over on the settlement. Then the Robot’s voice rang out over the sound system, warning everyone to cover their eyes. Bright lights went off, lights that were almost blinding in their intensity. He turned and ducked back into the Jupiter II. Muted explosions reached his ears and his shock turned into triumph. His and the Robot’s plan had worked. 

Rushing down the ladder, he rushed over to the Robot. “You did it!” he cried out. 

“We did it, Will Robinson, both of us worked together and succeeded,” the Robot intoned. His internal mechanisms whirred and muttered for a few seconds. “But why did the Graxod not take you?” 

“They took Josh. I think he took my place.” Then he looked down at his feet, his demeanor suddenly serious. “And I think they took Josh’s mother, too. I can only guess that they didn’t know exactly what we looked like. They only knew how many of us there were and what type, like girls and stuff like that. What are we going to do about getting in touch of Earth?” 

“We must work together, Will Robinson, to re-establish communications. I can only surmise that they wanted you and the rest of your family for the same reason they wanted your father. And they will keep them alive for the same reason as well.”

______________

Maureen paced the confines of Prowlith’s small craft, while the cat-woman looked on in amusement. “Maureen, my friend, pacing in my little ship will only wear out your shoes, without giving you much satisfaction.”

Stopping, the Earth woman gazed morosely at her feline companion. Finally, she sighed. “I know that Prowlith. I just can’t help it. I fear for John, even though I know they wanted him alive for some reason.” She stared out of the little observation window. 

Prowlith brought her a cup of steaming drink, something not dissimilar to coffee and put her clawed hand lightly on her human friend’s shoulder. “I can understand your worry, Maureen,” she said, handing the drink over. “We will be approaching Graxod in about three hours and then we can attempt contact with Mdorin.

“Yes… It’s just that so much time has gone by. What if they have done what they set out to do? What if John is dead now? Or if they have been torturing him?”

“Hopefully, all those questions will be answered in another few stellar hours.” Prowlith paused and stared at the hyperspace distorted star field along with her friend. “But I can’t help but think that somehow you would have known if he was dead. The telepathic link has grown so strong between your friends…” she jutted her pointed chin at the five flutter-dragons perched on the console, “and yourselves.” The five topics of conversation chirped enthusiastically and commenced preening their gossamer wings. 

Maureen smiled at them and sipped from the cup. Prowlith’s words both comforted and reassured. The felinoid was only echoing what she had felt in her heart, only doubting in her moments of worry and despair. She so wanted to believe those words, her heart, and she clung to those sentiments. “Thank you, Prowlith. I feel the same way. It’s just that it’s so hard to wait, to be patient.” 

A slight chiming alerted the group to the return to normal space. The zanlings chirped in alarm and almost as one, disappeared. Maureen chuckled lightly. John had finally gotten used to the transitions, but she didn’t think their little friends ever would. 

“Identify,” a terse voice came over the speakers. 

Leaning over, Prowlith spoke into the communications device. “This is Mril mur Prowlith, ambassador representing the Confederation. I am here to check on compliance issues.”

There was a short pause, then the communicator hissed to life again. “The Confederation sends a female to our planet.”

“The Confederation sends the best individual for the job, Sub-Commander,” Prowlith said. Her voice was almost a sultry purr. 

There was a slight pause. “There is total compliance. You need not come here,” the Graxod replied tersely.

“Then my visit will be short and you will be relieved of the responsibility of dealing with a female,” Prowlith countered acidly. “What landing bay is available? And please make sure there is transportation for my secretary and myself. The last time I was here, no such provisions had been made.” 

“Landing pad O-63. A vehicle will be waiting for you and you companion.” 

“That is good, Sub-Commander,” Prowlith said pleasantly, reaching over and ending the communication link with the flick of a claw. She turned to Maureen. “Is there the possibility that you could change your hair color? Just in case there is someone we meet on Graxod who might recognize you. For some reason, I don’t think that going to find Commander Mdorin as the wife of John Robinson is a smart thing to do.” At Maureen’s puzzled glance, she continued. “Just call it a hunch.” 

Maureen simply nodded. “I don’t mind, but do you have the provisions?” 

“Yes, Maureen. I am not just an innocent delegate from the Confederation. Sometimes I have to do my fact finding in a clandestine manner.” Both women smiled at each other conspiratorially. 

Within an hour, Maureen had changed from a red head to a brunette. Prowlith purred slightly. “Yes, that would be enough to keep a Graxod from wondering. I really don’t believe that the Graxod are able to differentiate between humans that well.” 

“I hope not,” Maureen said, looking dubiously into a small mirror in the sleeping cabin. Suddenly five flutter-dragons flew frantically into the small room, squeaking furiously. Maureen looked up at them in alarm. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

_‘Feel Silverado, John on another planet,’ _came the immediate answer.__

__“Which planet?”_ _

___‘Furthest one out. One where all the Graxod were left when John was Commander.’ ____ _

____“Ghilaron,” Prowlith said._ _ _ _

____“You heard them?” Maureen asked and then the full implication of what had been said hit her. “That means that Max is there. And that has to mean that John is there as well.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes!” Prowlith made a few adjustments on the communications panel. “Graxod ground control. I have examined my records as well as records previously sent to me and I find compliance to my satisfaction. There will be no need to land. Please send my regards to the Commanders who have cooperated so fully.”_ _ _ _

____“It will be done, Ambassador,” came the terse, but almost relieved sounding reply._ _ _ _

____“We’re not going to look for Mdorin?” Maureen asked._ _ _ _

____“No, if we can find Max and then rescue your husband, there will be no need to endanger Mdorin with our association,” Prowlith explained._ _ _ _

____ _ _

_______________ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Mdorin looked at his former commander in resignation, and then nodded. “I have found out some information to help in such a rescue, but your information may be a great deal more pertinent, Lord Commander. What are your suggestions?”_ _ _ _

____“Hit about an hour after the work detail begins. The guards will be lax because the workers will be feeling the effects of the atmosphere,” John said simply. “Their weaponry seems to consist of laser pistols, and occasionally laser rifles.”_ _ _ _

____“We can stun the guards. How many do you believe will be out there, Lord Commander?” Mdorin asked._ _ _ _

____“There shouldn’t be more than a half dozen for the entirety of the work party,” John replied, remembering preparations for his ill-gotten work detail of several days before._ _ _ _

____“That is two apiece…” Mdorin murmured._ _ _ _

____“No, I don’t think that you should be seen,” John said. “I don’t want you to be implicated in the escape attempt.” Standing up, the blanket wrapped around him, he began pacing in the confines of the ship. “With Silverado’s help, I can contact Pronix and get more details, as well as warn him of our arrival. He, Crinar and Mlidis can help if they know we’re coming.” Silverado chirped his approval, floating across the little cabin, and landing on his bondling’s shoulder._ _ _ _

____“What time is it at the prison? I seem to have lost all track of time.” John asked with a wry smile._ _ _ _

____“It is about an hour after the rising of the sun,” Max answered. “When would they begin the work detail?”_ _ _ _

____“Right after breakfast. Probably about now.”_ _ _ _

____“Then it will be best to finish this orbit and strike on the next approach,” Max suggested._ _ _ _

____John nodded, throwing the blanket on the bunk. “Stun rifles?”_ _ _ _

____“I came prepared in the event of such an escape attempt,” Max said matter-of-factly. “There are three laser rifles and three laser pistols, all of which can be set to stun.”_ _ _ _

____John nodded in satisfaction. He leaned against the bunk and felt the fingers of exhaustion working at him, trying to get him to lie down; rest, relax, take a well deserved nap. He shook his head and made his way over to Max, who was watching the instrumentation panel and checking readings. “What’s our eta, Max?” he asked softly._ _ _ _

____“Approximately one Earth hour until we are at the point of maximum effectiveness.”_ _ _ _

____Rubbing his eyes, John tried to focus on the same instrument panel that Max was working at. The dials and diagnostics all seemed to swim in and out of focus. Turning, he made his way to the small galley and punched in something that looked like it might be coffee in a small drink maker. What is tasted like was similar to what Will had tried to make one morning before they had left Earth. Its bitterness almost made his eyes water._ _ _ _

____“It is xrilorins, a very popular drink on Graxod,” Mdorin said from behind him._ _ _ _

____“Why am I not surprised? Max, can you check this and make sure my system can handle it? I don’t want to end up poisoned like I was with the tirzil.”_ _ _ _

____Max took a few minutes to test the drink. “It is similar to the coffee you prefer, but with several ingredients that not only give energy, but make the taste different.”_ _ _ _

____“Like battery acid,” John replied, half choking. He continued to sip the potent drink, as it seemed to help a bit in clearing his head._ _ _ _

____“I do not have any change of clothes for you, Lord Commander,” Mdorin said after a few moments of silence. “What you are wearing surely cannot be comfortable.”_ _ _ _

____“What more fitting for a rescue attempt than what I have been wearing for… what, over a month now, then what’s left of my old suit of clothes? What more fitting for a rilis?” John asked._ _ _ _

____“We will be breaking orbit in ten minutes. We must be ready to leave the ship as soon as it lands. This must be fast and done before the guards can mount a counter attack,” Max said from the control area._ _ _ _

____John sighed, but as he dug into the weapons locker, he felt the adrenalin beginning to rush._ _ _ _


	16. Escape from the Rock

In the midst of the burning flames of his pain, Don felt a tiny, cool oasis, a touch of solace. He tried to rise up to meet it, to get beyond the hell that seemed ready to devour him. He heard soft, panting cries and realized that the moaning was coming from him. 

“Don, can you hear me?” The voice was soothing, too. Then there was another touch, one that quenched the flames of his torment and brought welcome relief. A slight cooing sound joined that of the soothing voice. 

‘Don, can you feel me near?’

Judy! It was Judy! Slowly, with great effort, Don forced his eyelids open and looked into the face of his wife. An angel couldn’t have been more beautiful. Patting his shoulder with an almost deliberate softness was his son, Mark. At his awakening, the toddler smiled a huge toothy grin. He smiled back. 

“Don’t move, dear. They gave us some first aide supplies and we are working on your burn,” Judy admonished him. 

“Burn?” he asked stuperously. 

“Yes, they used some kind of laser on you and it burned you down your right side,” Judy explained softly. ‘And keep up the pretenses of the family unit, dear. They think they have the complete family.’

Looking around, Don saw Penny, Esther, and Josh watching him with concerned eyes. “Oh.” He pondered Judy’s telepathic message for a few minutes. It gave his sluggish mind time to wake up a bit more. He looked down at his wife’s ministrations and saw in his vision some of the ugly red blotches, with blisters already evident. No wonder he had felt so much pain, but why did he now not feel any? Judy had not finished applying the dressings. 

Mark chortled by his side and clapped his hands. Don remembered Judy telling him about the incident on Prowlith’s starship, when the baby had seemingly taken away Maureen’s pain after an alien artifact had assimilated into her body. He had wondered at the time if it had been a coincidence, even though Judy had believed that it was not. Apparently, she was right. 

“I’m feeling much better, thanks to you and Mark,” he murmured, staring at his almost two-year-old son in awe. “Is everyone else all right, Maureen,” he asked Esther meaningfully. 

“Yes, we haven’t been mistreated, and for the most part, actually ignored. They have brought food and supplies. But I’ll warn you, some of it is really awful. Think of jalapenos ground and made into a paste and you get the idea of what most of the food is like on the stomach,” Esther explained.

“Well, at least I got some things for Mark,” he said and then looked at Judy’s face. “No?”

“No, they left the pack and dragged you off with the rest of us,” Judy replied. “I’ve complained and the Graxod attending to us, whom I assume is the ship’s doctor, assured me he would look into it. I don’t know what they have in mind, but I can only guess that they want us to live long enough to suit Commander Krelon’s purposes. So at least for now, we’re well taken care of.” 

Don struggled to sit up. Josh reached over to help him. “Thanks, J… Will,” he said. There was still a dull, throbbing type of pain, but certainly not of the intensity of before. 

“I think I know what the Graxod have in mind,” Penny murmured, low enough for them to hear, but hopefully not loud enough for any listening devices. Everyone turned to her. ‘ _They want us at some kind of annual celebration where they will execute us, along with Daddy, and any other alien people on Graxod. It’s something called a Milgrantiod.’ ___

____

____

The room was silent, even the baby sat quietly, his solemn eyes staring at his aunt as though he could understand what she had said. Somehow, Don felt that he probably could, at least partly. 

______________

“Commander Mdorin, Professor Robinson, I will be bringing the ship into a very steep, fast descent. The velocity coupled with the turbulence of the atmosphere will make this a very rough landing. I would have you both using the shock chairs, but that would make it difficult to facilitate a quick raid upon landing. I must ask you to brace yourselves and hang onto to something,” Max informed his passengers. Silverado squeaked loudly, his eagerness tangible in his voice and thought patterns. 

“We’re ready, Max. Let’s just do it and get out of here,” John growled. His nervous anticipation dispelled any thoughts of sleepiness. He was keyed up and eager to rescue his companions and get to safety. John thought of how Commander Krelon would take the news of his escape, and began to laugh. When his former subordinate looked at him in a puzzled manner, John explained, adding, “I would love to be a fly on Krelon’s office wall when he gets the word of my escape.”

Mdorin laughed mirthlessly. “I think I understand what you mean by ‘fly.’ I would like to witness Krelon’s reaction as well, Lord Commander.” 

Max’s prediction about re-entry into the atmosphere turned out to be correct. John clutched onto a handhold near the airlock and bent his knees slightly to absorb the shock. Even so, there were a few times when he almost fell to the floor. Finally the shaking, roaring, tumultuous descent ended and all that could be heard was the scream of the sound barrier being ripped to shreds by a lone space craft approaching a landing pad at a speed several times normal approach speed. 

“Be ready,” Max intoned, his eyes never straying from the controls of the ship. Mdorin was standing nearby, ready to take over for the robot. 

‘ _Pronix, can you hear me? _’ John attempted to contact one of his Graxod companions. There was no answer. John felt the shuddering of the ship slowing as it neared the ground. _‘Pronix, Crinar, Mlidis?’ _John felt the strengthening touch of Silverado.____

_____ _

_____ _

‘ _Lord Commander?’ _came a tentative communication.__

____

____

‘ _Yes, we’re coming in. Be ready,’ _John communicated tersely.__

____

____

_‘We will be. _’ The thought sounded happy, almost euphoric.__

____

____

“My comrades will be ready,” John announced to the others. He grabbed at a hand-rail as the shipped bucked once more on its kamikaze approach to the prison. 

“Landing in ten point three seconds,” Max announced. Almost at the instant that the ship bounced slightly on the hard ground, the door slid open and Max was at his side. Both the robot and the bedraggled looking human dashed out of the ship firing stun rays in all directions. 

“The three men to your left, Max. Those are the three Graxod we are rescuing,” John called out. He felt the sizzle of a laser shot past his ear and fired his stun rifle in return. And he kept firing. He was relieved that all three of his companions were quickly boarding the little rescue ship. Most of the other prisoners were standing around either dumfounded at the blatant rescue or too worn from the thin air to do anything about it. Several guards were still standing, firing in their direction, shouting and cursing, but their shots went wild, their aim imprecise due to surprise. Max was unerring in his shooting, hitting two of the guards before John was able to stun the last of them. As the final Graxod guard fell to the ground, the only sound that could be heard was the sighing of the rescue ship’s engines barely above the sounding of the alarms inside the prison. 

“Your friends are inside, Professor Robinson. We must go now before more guards come,” Max informed him pragmatically. The robot turned and dashed back up the ship’s ramp. 

John paused a moment, seeing the brief flickering of hope dying on the faces of the other prisoners. “I’m sorry. I will do what I can to help the rest of you,” he said to the foremost Graxod before he turned and sprinted up the ramp. Almost before the hatch had closed, the ship was powering up and lifting from the ground. 

“Hang on to something,” Max called out. “I am going to lift in a steep, fast escape path.” Within minutes the little ship had reached the outer layers of the atmosphere and was shooting toward the darkness of space. 

The three Graxod prisoners were gleefully clapping each other on the back. John smiled wearily and sat on the edge of one of the few sleeping berth the small spacecraft possessed. He yawned as he watched the small celebration, then he lay back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. The noises of the ship and his friends drifted into the netherworld of his dreams. 

________

Silverado watched his bondling carefully, but found the sleep to be natural and nothing injury induced. He cocked his head and chirped in pleasure. His friend was safe, they were together and now they could return to Gamma and the rest of the family. 

Wispy tendrils of thoughts penetrated his cheerfulness. They were thoughts from those he knew, thoughts that were simultaneously hopeful and urgent. The zanling paused and concentrated, letting the assimilated crystal in his body focus on the telepathic messages to the exclusion of everything else. It was Maureen, and not only was Maggie with her, but so were Lucy, Peter, Edmund and Susan. They were in a ship near the prison planet on the same mission he and Max had been on. Chirping, he sent a message to them, giving them their coordinates. 

Next he turned and chirped at Max. The robot swiveled and gazed at him. Silverado repeated his message, wishing at the same time that there was a way to telepathically communicate with Max. It would make things so much simpler. The robot turned back to his instrumentation. “There is a small ship, only slightly larger than ours approaching Ghilaron. Would that be the one to which you are referring?” Max asked the tiny creature.

Silverado pondered and squeaked his affirmative. “Give her the following coordinates and tell her that we are going to that place. It is a place of safety,” Max said rattling off a string of numbers. Again the zanling squeaked and closed his golden eyes, concentrating, focusing on the task. Suddenly he heard the squeaks of the other zanlings, and opened his eyes to find himself in the cockpit of a ship with Prowlith, Maureen and the other flutter-dragons. 

“Silverado!” Maureen exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”

_‘From Max’s ship. John is there and he is safe. We are going to a place of safety. Max gave me the coordinates for it.’ _As Silverado gave her the figures, Maureen repeated them to Prowlith, who punched them into the navigational computer.__

____

____

The ship hummed at a higher pitch as it swung away from Ghilaron and followed its companion out beyond the Graxod solar system. “How is he, Silverado? Has he been harmed? Is he well?” Maureen asked anxiously. Her relief was obvious, moisture formed in the corners of her eyes. The other zanlings were perched on her shoulders, cheeping their comfort. 

_‘He is well now, just sleeping. He was very tired and cold when I found him.’ ___

____

____

_‘He had escaped?’ _Maureen asked.__

____

____

Silverado chirped in the affirmative. _‘I must return before the change to hyperspace.’ _Within seconds the silver flutter-dragon had disappeared… and returned to Max’s little scout craft. _‘Maureen follows, _’ he announced. Max translated for the rest.____

_____ _

_____ _

“Where are we taking the Lord Commander, Max?” Mdorin inquired, looking toward the bunk where John lay asleep. 

“We are going to the asteroid of Pricoris, a trader of all things, legal or not. He was once my owner.”

“What was your job for this Pricoris?” Mdorin asked, genuinely curious. 

“I was a security guard, a bouncer,” Max answered evenly. 

After determining that John was uninjured Pronix, Crinar and Mlidis stood near Mdorin following the conversation. “What will happen after we reach Pricoris’ asteroid?” Pronix asked.

“I suspect that Professor Robinson and his wife will return to their own planet….” Max paused and pondered for a few seconds. “That would not help anything, unless the situation on Graxod stabilizes.” 

“No, something will have to be done with Lord Commander Krelon, or Lord Commander Robinson will have to guard against any further reprisals for a long time,” Mdorin stated sourly. 

“Yes, but at least the professor will be in a safe place while we consider it,” Max said. “We are going into hyperspace.” Silverado crawled under John’s blanket as the star field outside the observation window coalesced and formed swirls of white, yellow and red.


	17. Pricoris' Good News/Bad News

John looked down at the new clothes he was wearing and then back up at the entranceway of his and Maureen’s cabin. Tentatively, he reached out and let his fingers break the plane of the doorway. Nothing happened and he sighed in relief. His mind had told him he was somewhere else, but the habits of several weeks, a month, were hard to break. 

Behind him he felt the rustling of sheets. “Oh, John. Believe it, you’re free.” 

“Yes, free, but for how long?” he murmured. He turned back to his wife, sat down next to her and began caressing her arms. Pulling her hand toward him, he kissed her palm. 

She reached up with her other hand and lightly touched his recently shaven cheek. “What did you say, dearest?” she asked softly. 

“As long as Krelon is in power, he poses a threat to you and the kids. We won’t be able to live on Gamma, we will fear for the children wherever we are. I just wish I knew what to do about him,” John explained. Then he looked into her eyes, his growing alarm evident. 

“John?” 

“With my escape, Krelon will be more than eager to take revenge on the family and the colony!” John leaned over, kissed his wife quickly and dashed out of the room. 

An alien was padding softly down the corridor, pots of beverage in his four six-digited hands. The large round eyes looked up at him in surprise as John approached. The tiny slit of a mouth opened, but John didn’t wait for him to say anything. “I need to see Pricoris. Immediately!” 

“He is probably conducting his business meetings right now, sir,” the alien whistle-talked. John noticed a translator hanging from the humanoid’s neck and was grateful. 

“I’ve got business with him. Where is he?” 

Seeing the determined look on John’s face, the creature gave the needed directions. Almost before he was finished speaking, John was walking down the corridor, his long legged stride quickly eating up the distance to the asteroid owner’s quarters. As he walked, John thought. He thought about Krelon, he thought about what Krelon had planned for his end, he thought about solutions. And a germ of an idea formed in his mind; an idea that would at once destroy Krelon’s influence and, hopefully, restore some semblance of status quo to the Graxod society. As distasteful as the idea was, by the time John reached Pricoris’ business chambers, he could see no other solution.

Without any prelude, John started to pass through the doorway, but was stopped by the most unusual-looking alien that he had ever seen. It remotely resembled a cross between a gorilla and a centipede, and in each tiny hand there was what appeared to be a small handgun. John didn’t doubt that each one of them could stop him. “I need to see Pricoris,” he stated. 

“No,” the creature hissed. “Busssinesss isss being conducted at thisss moment. You mussssst wait.” This one also had a translator.

“It is imperative that I see him. A matter of utmost urgency.”

“Not until meetingssss are concluded.”

Frustrated, John paced in the corridor for a few moments. Turning back to the guard, he said tersely, “Then just tell him that John Robinson is waiting to see him.” The guard nodded the top of its body, made a motion that set a force field in place at the door and turned away from him.

John paced up and down the corridor, his frustration rising. He didn’t remember much of the trip from Ghilaron, having slept most of the time during the three-day journey. Their arrival at Pricoris’ asteroid coincided with the local morning hours. It was quickly apparent to the professor that this was definitely a place built for pleasure. He, Maureen and the others had been ushered through a casino as large as a football field. Glances though various doors showed large rooms for dining, live shows and other kinds of gaming rooms. It also appeared that small sports arenas existed as well. 

And none of it was cheesy, either. If anything, money was skimped on amenities in the living quarters of those who lived and worked here. A soft hissing heralded the disruption of the force field and John whirled around, ready to renew the argument with the alien guard. 

Instead, he was met by an alien that vaguely resembled an orangutan. Leathery lips stretched from one side of the alien’s face to the other in a genuine smile of greeting. Red hair hung along each cheek down to the shoulders. Reddish hair also covered most of the exposed body, which was clothed by a tunic cinched at the ample waist by a jeweled belt. The belt was the only sign of the owner’s station in life, the tunic being a plain muslin-like material. There was a very short neck, and the arms were somewhat long, reaching almost down to the individual’s knees. The legs were slightly bowed, and the feet spread comfortably in plain leather sandals. The resemblance to a primate ended there, however. The light blue eyes showed a knowledge of all the follies and foibles of every kind of creature, and a wealth of wisdom from years of study. John felt an instant liking to this unpretentious, but obviously powerful person. 

“Pricoris, I presume?” John asked politely.

There was a low, rumbling chuckle. “I was told you were a telepath,” Pricoris said. 

“It didn’t seem to help me when I was kidnapped by the Graxod,” John answered sardonically. “And I don’t make it a habit to pry.”

Pricoris nodded. “Thank you, I wouldn’t want all of my thoughts on display. Some of them would make a kreopsis blush. I understand you wish to see me, John Robinson. Or is it Lord Commander?” 

“Please, Mr. Pricoris. I am just John, or if you prefer a title, Professor.”

“From what Max has told me you have acquired several new titles lately. But I am at your service. How are you feeling? Your ordeal in a Graxod prison couldn’t have been a very pleasant one,” Pricoris inquired, motioning for John to follow him into his quarters. 

John felt Maureen’s presence behind him and turned slightly to motion her in before him. He could still see the effects of her recent ordeal and felt a slight pang of guilt at the heartache that his kidnapping caused her. If he had been more attentive…. But he just shrugged it off. As before, recriminations were useless. He had to think of what to do about the threat that Krelon posed. Maggie cheeped softly, almost consoling from Maureen’s shoulder. “I am feeling quite fine. Except for the food and the separation from my family, I was essentially well treated.” 

“Dr. Robinson, welcome to my humble abode. I will have breakfast brought to us while we talk,” Pricoris rumbled. His voice held the pleasant bass of a softly struck kettledrum.

Maureen nodded. “Why thank you, Mr. Pricoris. And please call me Maureen.”

“And I am just Pricoris, please.”

John and Maureen sat down in the seats offered them. They were firm, and, yet they supported their bodies in total comfort. “There are two things that we need and then we’ll be able to return home,” John said. Silverado suddenly appeared and swooped over to John’s shoulder, where he perched nonchalantly and wrapped his tail around his friend’s neck. Absently, the professor reached up and scratched the flutter-dragon under his chin. “We need to contact our children on the Gamma colony, and we need to contact Earth.”

Pricoris sighed. “Max called the colony a few hours ago. The reception was very difficult to maintain. They had just reinstalled their communications tower.”

John felt a slight chill run up his spine. “Why would the tower have to be rebuilt?”

“I’m sorry, Professor, this is not easy news to tell you. Graxod forces attacked them. As far as Max was able to determine no one was killed or seriously hurt, but almost all of your family was abducted. It is presumed that they were taken to Graxod. The only one of your children not taken was your youngest son, Will.”

Maureen made a small gasp and John could feel her fingers clutching onto his sleeve. The anger that he had felt toward the threat the Graxod commander posed to his family flamed into a deep, cold rage. “I’ll kill the son of …”

“Max believes that they are safe for the moment, at least until the Milgrantiod,” Pricoris interrupted. “He believes that is why you were not harmed as well. You were all to be saved for that event.” 

“When is this Milgrantiod?” John inquired. 

“In about two and a half weeks. I believe your family will be safe for that period of time.” 

“I knew I had to think of some way to neutralize Krelon, but didn’t know he would go to this extreme,” John said tersely. “This Milgrantiod… Would that be like a space ship race?” he asked, remembering the visions that had danced in and out of his mind when he had been poisoned. 

“Yes, are you familiar with it?” Pricoris asked.

“Not really…” John began. 

“Pricoris, if they kidnapped the rest of the family, wouldn’t they know that I had gone off planet? And why didn’t they take Will?” Maureen interrupted. 

“They didn’t know about your departure from Gamma because they took Esther and Josh Black in yours’ and Will’s places,” the alien explained. 

“What is the prize for winning this Milgrantiod? Is it similar to a Womgrantiod?” John asked, his eyes dark in thought.

“It is similar in that usually the winner of the race is the only individual left alive. But the prize, as you call it, is pretty much anything that the winner chooses. If he wants the Supreme Commander’s daughter, then he gets her. If he wants a body transference, then it is his,” Pricoris stated.

“Then is there anyway you can help me prepare to be in it?” John inquired.

“You plan on winning and asking for your family’s freedom?” Pricoris asked.

“Something like that,” John said tersely. 

“No, John! We have to have Prowlith contact the Confederation,” Maureen exclaimed. 

“Maureen, as soon as Confederation forces showed up, the kids are dead. This has to be done in a way that Krelon doesn’t expect. If I could win that race, we could get them without bloodshed.” 

“You need to be very, very good, very devious and have a top notch racer,” Pricoris stated the obvious. 

“I am not a bad pilot, although my son-in-law is better, and maybe you can help me with a ship,” John returned. 

“They would blast you before you made it to the asteroids,” Pricoris stated blandly. 

“You are talking to the man who knew nothing about the Womgrantiod four weeks before he fought one. And Krelon’s brother wasn’t the one who walked away from it,” John replied, his fingers steepled in thought and his eyes resolute 

No one said anything for a few moments. The determined set of John’s mouth precluded that. Finally, Pricoris sighed. “I think, if we work round the clock, we might be able to fix up a ship so that you can at least survive.” He tugged at his cheek hair. “You know, if I hadn’t met you and learned of you from Max, I would refuse to have anything to do with this scheme.”

“I appreciate your help. I suspect that Max can give me some pointers on running a Graxod space race. I have a couple of things in mind for modifications, too.” 

“I thought you were a teacher, a scientist!” Pricoris exclaimed, staring at the human in astonishment. “And now you are making improvements on spaceships?”

“I read a lot. And, Pricoris, the survival of our family out there in the galaxy for the past four plus years has depended on being adaptable. Any scientist knows that. As does any commander.”

Pricoris nodded. Glancing at Maureen, seeing the fearful look in her eyes and the tight set of her mouth, he said, “Dr. Robinson, it is a wonder that your hair isn’t gray by now.”

Maureen blinked, gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment and then said ironically, “I am adaptable, too.” She paused and then added softly, looking meaningfully at her husband, “But I, too, am surprised that it hasn’t turned gray either.”


	18. A Good Plan

The four Graxod bent over the diagrams that John had spread across a large table. “Lord Commander, why do you wish for extra stabilizers?” Crinar inquired. “For the most part it is a straight course, only deviating in the asteroid field of Brangidan.” 

“That’s why, Crinar. I want more control, especially if I have to negotiate closer to any of the asteroids or around any of the other’s ships,” John explained.

“And an ion particle emitter?” Mlidis asked.

“How badly do you think a cloud of ion particles would disrupt one’s navigation equipment?”

Mlidis looked up in astonishment and then grinned. “Then that would explain the frequency modulators as well.” 

“Yes, I want to stop my competition, not destroy them. My only goal is to win this race.” 

“But that will not be their goal,” Pronix pointed out.

“Maybe not, which is why I asked for aft shields.”

“But shields will make your ship slower and take away power from your engines,” Mdorin protested. 

“But if I have disabled most of my competitors, then it won’t matter that much,” John replied. 

“No, Lord Commander. It is speed you want most here. I think I can make some adjustments and add a few components which will increase the speed and power of your ship by fifteen percent,” Pronix said. 

“And you’re sure that the use of shields will be counter-productive?” 

“Yes, Lord Commander and it will give you a false sense of security. In this race you must rely on your fast reflexes and your quick thinking, as well as a great deal of luck,” Mdorin pointed out. 

“Very well, then. You add your modifications and those I suggested that are feasible,” John conceded. “And anything else you think will help. And Crinar, you are the most proficient pilot around here. I want to go out and get some practice this afternoon. Oh, about fifteen hundred hours.” John paused, stared at the plans and then looked back up, his eyes troubled. “We only have two weeks to do this, do you think it can be done?”

“Lord Commander, we will get the modifications done. The question is, will you be ready?” Mdorin asked. 

“I have to be, Mdorin.” John clapped his hand on Mdorin’s shoulder as he left. “Thank you, my friends,” he added as he left.

Mdorin’s eyes followed his lord commander as he strode out of the room. They were full of concern. “Let’s get to work,” he said. 

“I do not have to be telepathic to feel that something is bothering you, Commander,” Pronix said. 

“I am not worried about getting this ship ready in time. I am worried about the Lord Commander’s stamina.” 

“He only has to win this race, Commander,” Crinar pointed out. 

“Maybe, and maybe the race will just be the prelude. I think that Lord Commander Robinson has something else in mind for his winner’s request than to just free his family and friends. But as he said, we have to all be ready and we will be. I will protect my Lord Commander to the death!” 

_________

“Focus, Professor,” Max intoned, his voice soft but steady. “Focus on the readouts and the controls.” 

John was in a simulator of the ship he was going to pilot. As he had before the womgrantiod, Max was a very capable instructor. “All right. Let’s try one more run.” He paused and used the c.lir to calm his nerves and regulate his breathing. He had been using it more frequently lately. He’d had to. His thoughts always returned to his family. After a brief, coded message to Will, he hadn’t even contacted him. There was always the fear that Krelon would decide to do something to the others before the Milgrantiod race.

“Very good, Professor.” Max’s voice was soothing in his earpiece. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I am ready and Max?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“Don’t say anything to me. Let me run this on my own. You won’t be communicating with me during the real race. You can point out the flaws later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I have something in mind.”

“Very well.”

As soon as he shut off communicatons, Silverado popped into the cockpit.

_'Do all the zanlings know what I want from them?' ___

____

____

_'Yes, John, they do. But I am not happy leaving you, even for a short time.' ___

____

____

_'I can manage. Just help me now and I will be well versed in what I need to do during the race.' _The longer this went, the less guilt John felt using the zanlings or anything else to help him win the race. Everything hinged on getting his family to safety. The only guilt he was feeling now was in not letting anyone in on his plans, including Maureen. The more people knew, the greater the chance the plans could leak out. Not that he felt Maureen would tell anyone, but he had already seen the resources Krelon could call upon to hurt him and his family. At whatever cost, the Graxod had to be stopped.__

____

____

_'We will, John, we will.' _Silverado gave him directions, told him the positions of the other racers so that he wouldn’t be distracted by the monitors. John made it almost to the end of the race before something scored a hit on him. It wouldn’t have been a killing hit during the actual race, but a disabling one that would have kept him from finishing and allowed someone else to blast him to smithereens.__

____

____

“That was a very good run, Lord Commander,” Mdorin’s voice came over the communicator.

“What happened at the end?” 

“I programmed another combatant into the simulation. It appears that Krelon has a designated racer now, one that was added strictly for the purpose of defeating you, I am sure.”

That was not a surprise. “I have to be ready for that. Wouldn’t be surprised if Krelon paid other racers.” In fact, John was wondering why it hadn’t happened before. He figured Krelon would want to be the one to execute his family after he was out of the way. Of course, Krelon had boasted that he would do that in front of him, before he lopped his head off. Maybe Krelon decided that there was too much risk if he raced himself, despite boasting that he could beat anyone.

“So when will the racer be ready for a trial run?”

“Two days from now, Lord Commander. In that two days we can build a duplicate of the race course.”

“Are the facsimiles of the racer ready?”

“Yes, Lord Commander.”

“Good, I’ll run those in the duplicate race course. I don’t want anyone except you to know what this little beauty is capable of.”

Mdorin cocked his head as though he thought the human had lost his mind. 

_'Maybe I have,' _John thought__

____

____

*****

Judy held Mark close as several Graxod servants brought in trays of food and water for their dinner. Most of them would not make eye contact, even when she spoke to them in their own language. Of course, she was probably butchering it. 

One of them, though, did look at her, often studying Mark and then looking sad, or what Judy thought of as sad. They had all been very succinctly told on the ship that had kidnapped them just what was in store. They were being held for the annual Milgrantiod where they would be executed in front of her father, who was also being held prisoner. 

Of course, Dad wasn’t a prisoner. That much she knew when Aurora had sneaked in few nights ago. Dad had escaped and Mom and a few others had found him. He was safe and preparing for this Milgrantiod. She knew that the only reason they were alive was because Krelon was saving them for this event. He had the worst kind of revenge lust, believing that Dad had done something to cheat his way into Lord Commander status. She had a sneaking hunch that Krelon knew exactly what they all knew here—that Dad would be at the Milgrantiod, to save them if nothing else. And if the gloating that the Graxod did every day was any indication, then Dad was walking into a trap. The only thing going for all of them were the zanlings, who only flitted in to find out what was happening. Judy presumed that when they weren’t here, their lizards were with Dad and Mom. She hoped so!

The Graxod servant looked at her and murmured something under her breath. “Only ten days away.”

“Milgrantiod?”

“Yes. I wish I could do something to at least save your child,” she added in an even lower voice.

“Thank you. I wish so, too.”

The woman finished laying the dishes on a table and left with the other servants. Judy felt Don’s hands on her shoulders. 

“I wish there was, too,” he whispered in her ear.

“You heard that?” she whispered back. They all knew that there were listening devices. 

_‘Yes.’ ___

____

____

_‘Dad is preparing something. I know he is.’ ___

____

____

_‘So is Krelon. But we need to be prepared to do something, too. We can’t leave all the solutions up to him.’ _While the mental communication was going on, Don was nuzzling her neck. Let the damned Graxod think what they would. He had trained some with Max and only needed to get his hands on a plantiod-crinth. Something! Anything.__

____

____

_‘I will not let anyone do anything to Mark!’ _Judy cried mentally.__

____

____

_‘Nor will I!’ ___

____

____

The baby was pulling himself upright by hanging on to his dad's pants. 

“I see they brought some dinner, my dears,” Esther announced as she came in from one of the two bedrooms. 

Judy had to admit, Esther dissembled well, Josh had, too. Especially considering that he was sweet on Penny, and having to act brotherly. They were in the other bedroom right now. Picking up Mark, Judy went to the smaller room and peered in. “Dinner,” she said. Unsaid was the mental command to stop holding hands. 

Josh blushed slightly and got up, dashing into the room as though starved. He probably was feeling the pinch. The Graxod only sent enough to keep them alive, nowhere near enough to fatten them up. Judy was grateful she was still nursing the baby when they had been kidnapped, although she knew he wasn’t getting enough either. 

The group sat around the table, saying little. Only Mark seemed unaffected by all this, but Judy knew better. The baby wasn’t sleeping well. Only the appearance of his flutter dragon after the lights were dimmed kept him from crying all night.


	19. Pre-Race Jitters

The night before the Milgrantiod was nerve-wracking for all of them. Pricoris had insisted on bringing all of them and the racer in his personal space craft. Apparently, he had enjoyed the patronage of Graxod as well as other members of the galaxy and he was a kind of a persona neutralis. John wasn’t sure if that would continue after this. Pricoris didn’t seem concerned and told John that with his protection, the professor would at least have some chance of making it to the finish line. 

Before they entered the Graxod system, he called John into his office. Pricoris was still wearing the tunic and belt, only this time the tunic was bright yellow. His broad feet were propped up on his desk. “Sit down, John.”

John really didn’t want to, but there was no good reason to not sit down. Pricoris had taken a great chance backing his efforts. For some reason, John also figured the asteroid owner had contacted Prowlith and the Galactic Federation, insisting they wait until the Milgrantiod was run. At least that’s what John hoped they had done. 

“I have been hearing some really good reports from Max. Your skills have improved immensely.”

“I told you they would.”

“But your instincts for this kind of thing are still lacking. You are not ruthless enough. You hesitate to kill. If I was betting on this, I would bet against your survival.”

“Thanks a lot for your vote of confidence,” John muttered. 

“Actually, I think there is more going on here than what I, or anyone else, has seen over the last two weeks.”

John raised an eyebrow. What did the alien casino owner guess was going on? He didn’t say anything. Pricoris liked guessing games. Let him guess.

“So I was just kidding. I went ahead and bet a thousand sinestrees.”

John almost choked. “You what?” He had a pretty good idea how much that was and it would probably pay for the Jupiter II, modifications and all. 

“Professor, you once told me that you were adaptable. I think it’s that which will help you succeed. All Krelon wants is revenge. He is one-sided in his quest. Just remember that he is not against playing dirty.”

John laughed. “Hell, Pricoris, I already knew that. Why else did I spend those weeks in a Graxod prison? He dropped from the same tree as Kalingdor who tried to beat me with a secret destruction ray.” He leaned forward, suddenly serious. “That is why he took my family. He will regret that.” 

Pricoris nodded. “I know. And I understand the situation you are in. I once had a family. I want you to win this, John. I can never get my family back, but I want you to get yours back.”

“I will.” He stood up. “And thanks for all you’re doing for me.”

Pricoris chuckled. “When this race is over, we will be more than square.” He also stood up and shook John’s hand. “Mdorin has a uniform for you to wear to the race check-in.”

“Mdorin said that check-in could be done via vid. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“Oh, I figured, but you are going to look like a Lord Commander when you do it.”

With a smile, he gave a half salute to his benefactor and headed off to the hangar where his sleek and souped-up space racer sat. Max had been personally guarding it when John wasn’t with it. “Thanks, Max. A bit of a new order for the race. I want you to have computer link up with the racer. Just in case.”

“I didn’t think you wanted that, Professor.”

“There may be slight changes in plans. I want you ready to be able to be in control at any time during the race. But not while I am piloting it. If I can, I’ll have one of the zanlings warn you.”

“Of course, Professor. And I thank you for your confidence.”

Mdorin was near his and Maureen’s cabin. “Lord Commander, the check-in is in an hour. I have a uniform for you.”

“By the way, has anyone contacted the Galactic confederation?”

“I have not. Whether Pricoris or your wife has, I can’t say. I know you were very much against it.”

“That was before. When there was a chance for Krelon to get word and kill my children and friends. Now, the Confederation needs to be aware of what’s going on. Mdorin, I cannot thank you and the others enough for what you have done.” He took the uniform and carried it into his cabin where Maureen was waiting. John laid the uniform on the bed and took her in his arms. “It will be all right, Mo,” he whispered in her ear as he felt her shaking. “It will be all right.”

“John, come back to me. Please. There have been so many times.”

“Precedence is there, Maureen. I will come back.” 

The zanlings careened into the cabin, all ten of them, squeaking furiously. _‘John!!’ ___

____

____

_‘Help me out here, Silverado.’_

____

____

With his bondling’s help, John directed his thoughts to Jimmy Doolittle. _‘Can you go to Prowlith now? On her ship? Tell her she is to appear at the end of the womgrantiod if she can. Tell her to contact Pricoris first, before she tries to contact anyone else.’_

__

__

An affirmative and Don’s zanling popped out of the room. ‘Silverado. You will come with me at the start of the race. When I give you the signal, you will leave and take the rest of the zanlings with you to the place I direct you to. Did you bring the crystal?’ __

__

__

Silverado showed John the crystal that had so much power, good and destructive, a crystal that both of them had used. 

Maureen’s eyes widened. _‘You have a plan!’ ___

____

____

He nodded. “Now help me on with this.” As he put on the uniform, he grumbled. “Never liked tuxes or uniforms. Damned monkey suits!”

“You would have worn a lab coat to our wedding if you had had your way, John Robinson,” she laughed, but a tear trickled from her eye. 

John wiped it away and kissed her soundly. “Wait with Pricoris, please.”

“Yes, I will, John.”

He tugged the bottom of his tunic and left the cabin. Maureen and the zanlings followed him to the elevator. He kissed her again as she got on and rode up to the control room. When the door slid closed, he turned and found Mdorin behind him. 

“You look every inch a Lord Commander. Regardless of your race of origin.” He held up a plantiod-crinth. “This is yours, at least for the duration of the race.”

John nodded. “Let’s get this started so it can be finished. Then I can go home and you and the others won’t be exiles from your own world.” He noticed Mdorin was also uniformed. It appeared to be the same as what he had worn as second in command during his time after the Womgrantiod with Kalingdor. They strode to a room off of Pricoris control room. 

Pronix was at the computer link-up. Mlidis and the others were with Max. “Are you ready, Lord Commander?”

“Yes, let’s get this part done,” he growled. Mdorin stood next to him. 

Pronix set up the link. A dour looking Graxod was on the other end. “I am Lord Commander Wrixis. Are you ready for the Milgrantiod, human?”

“I am Lord Commander John Robinson, and I am ready for the Milgrantiod.”

“Very well, Lord Commander. You are expected at coordinates 114.66 in ten septuls. The start of the race will not wait for you if you are late.”

“I understand, Race Commissioner. It is as you say,” John replied formally. As Pronix cut the transmission, John undid the uniform jacket and threw it on a chair. The pants followed. Underneath the uniform was a single piece black, skin tight jump-suit. He held on to the plantiod-crinth. Soft calf-length boots made no sound on the deck as they left. “Let’s go, gentlemen.”

The racer was also black, with white streaks along its length. Pricoris was a sucker for decoration and glamor, but these decorations also served to disguise several modifications. The only systems tests had come before the ship had been painted and finished. Other ships had been ‘tested’ as well and hopefully that would confuse the real ship’s abilities during the actual race. John touched the outer layer in appreciation of all the work that had gone into this project of desperation. He hoped that all who had worked with him didn’t fault him his subterfuge. One of those disguised moderations ran on each side of the ship aft. He had fought long and hard for that one, but in the end, John won and added even more modifications. Now if they kept him alive long enough to win the race.

He handed the sword to Max while he got into the ship. There was little room for anything other than weaponry, life support systems and himself. Max handed him his helmet, scant protection if someone managed to get a hit on him. What appeared to be a simple dark-colored jumpsuit was actually an environmental suit. When the helmet was attached, he would have about ten minutes of air in case of a hull breach. John didn’t plan on getting hit, but this was a street fight, not a regulated Queensbury arena game. The rules of a Graxod engagement was that there were no rules and that was what John was counting on. 

Max handed him his plantiod-crinth. This was the same sword that he had been forced to use on Kalingdor on The Conquest, and it still had flakes of the former commander’s blood on its blade. If John had his way, it would be stained with Krelon’s blood as well when this was done. That was later, however. Now was the matter of just getting through this race. 

“How much time before the race begins?” he asked.

“Ten and a half minutes, Professor. You probably need to go now.”

John shook his head. “I am going to arrive slightly late. You and Mdorin are going to check to see if anyone is hiding out here in ambush.”

Max paused slightly. “Perhaps I have trained you too well, sir. You are acting extremely paranoid.”

John laughed. “And who wouldn’t be?” He sobered quickly, remembering his family. “Considering everything Krelon has done so far.” He slid in and buckled his harness. “If there is, and they attack before my arrival at the race course boundaries, you have my permission to disable them . . . or Mdorin can do worse if necessary. You two will also be protecting Maureen, Pricoris and everyone else on board this ship.”

“Absolutely, Professor.” 

Mdorin simply bowed. 

John powered up the ship’s engines. They practically purred. “This may become a hobby when the Milgrantiod is all done,” he said before closing the canopy. As soon as everything was locked into place, and he had snapped the harness, Silverado popped inside with him and sat on his shoulder.


	20. The Milgrantiod

John engaged all systems and shot out of the landing bay. Immediately his computer monitors showed him several fighters waiting beyond the racecourse. Two of them turned toward his position. He deliberately kept the speed below the max available. ‘ _Right now, let me know if they or any other ships approach within the course. _’ Silverado chirped. The zanling had a soft aura that John knew was the influence of the crystal that was used to enhance the abilities of the zanling kings and princes.__

____

____

A flash told him that Mdorin had taken him literally at his word. One of the racers had been destroyed. Another flash on the monitor told him the other had been taken care of as well. 

A soft pop told him the other zanlings were in the ship with him. It felt rather crowded, but John had wanted direct contact with them. “What has Krelon done with the family?” he asked. 

_‘They have been taken to Krelon’s observation room on his ship. From what we could find out, that is where the winner of the race is going to take you at the conclusion of the Milgrantiod,’ _Aurora told him. And then the zanlings showed him the view of Krelon’s ‘press box.’__

____

____

The picture John got was that no one in his family had not been beaten or otherwise misused, but he could see the strain that the last two weeks had undoubtedly put on them. Soon he would take care of that. _‘Jimmy, go to Will and let him know that everyone will be transporting home shortly. Ask him if there has been any surveillance over Gamma recently and if there is any now. If there are any Graxod in near Gamma, come back immediately and let me know.’_

____

____

With a squeak, the zanling popped out. He knew Silverado could do such teleporting much easier, but he wanted his friend nearby until he gave the word. 

“Approaching the race course. The race started 1.6 seconds ago,” the computer intoned. 

One of the ships outside of the course fired on him. As he suspected, it was a disabling shot, not a killing shot and he easily evaded it. Krelon wanted him alive. Another ship did the same, trying to catch him in the crossfire. The screen showed a blossom of light as the first ship was destroyed. Then there was another that sent the second ship careening into space. John would have to congratulate Mdorin after the race. 

The third ship came within the course and began firing at him. With a great deal of pleasure, John pushed the button that sent an aft disruptor torpedo at the assailant. Soon that ship, too, was spinning out of control. 

John continued after the racing contestants already beginning the race. He fired a disrupter at the closest one and an engine pod blew apart and spun away from his opponent’s ship. Maneuvering around the crippled ship, John saw that the other ships, while still on the course, had peeled widely apart from one another. One spun upward and then back down, directly toward him. 

“Tell me when he’s about to fire,” John ordered. “And the rest of you watch for other racers coming in.”

_‘Now, John!’ ___

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____

No tact here. John hit the button for the forward laser guns and the ship blew totally apart. 

_‘Another two coming in from both sides,’ _Silverado reported as John dodged around debris.__

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____

One fired and the proton bomb detonated harmlessly against the side. _Strike one for port shields, _John thought.__

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____

‘ _Different, John. The other one is doing something different.’ ___

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____

The other ship swooped a little closer and sent out a tractor beam. His racer shuddered and groaned. “Damn!” he hadn’t thought of that possibility. He should have. What better way to defeat him than to simply imprison him and drag him in for the official beheading. _‘Silverado, can you transfer a little of your power into the ship’s engines?’ ___

____

____

_‘Yes, John. I think so.’ ___

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_‘Do it!!’ ___

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____

The racer jumped forward, but it hadn’t lost the tractor beam yet. John pushed the button releasing the shields on both sides and the beam locked onto those. The racer really did shoot forward this time, blowing past two other contestants before they realized what had happened. The professor hadn’t wanted to get rid of that addition quite so soon, but he was glad they were available to help out. 

John did one of Max’s spiraling moves and found himself right behind a racer that had been behind him. Another disruptor and that ship drifted out of the course, but not before another racer slammed into it, blowing both of them to kingdom come. “How many racers are left on the course?” he asked the computer. 

“There should only be ten ships left on the course, but there are fourteen.” 

John growled a curse and added a bit more speed to his rush toward the asteroids. 

_‘Three on your tail,’ _Silverado informed him. The other zanlings squeaked their shock when yet another racer lined up with the three.__

____

____

“Stupid maneuver,” he muttered, firing two aft disrupters. Two of the ships peeled out of the way, but by then, John had fired his back laser and blown a third one off course as well. The other one was going to be persistent and stayed on his tail. 

John sped into the asteroid field, watching for the smaller asteroids. Pings told him that the tiny ones were very prevalent here. A great deal of luck. He zagged and the racer behind him zigged, blowing up as it slammed into an asteroid half the size of his ship. John raced back out of the field and used his laser guns on a ship that had been waiting just outside the asteroids. He had to admit, the pilot was good, being able to use forward thrusters to slow his crippled ship down enough to land on an asteroid. It wasn’t pretty, but the pilot would hopefully live to race another day. 

It was almost time for the climax to all his plans. 

*****

“Come with us. All of you. Do not bring any belongings,” the Graxod guard ordered. 

Don seethed. For two weeks he had tried to come up with something and still nothing. These Graxod were so paranoid that there had been no way to find a weapon, make a plan, or escape during the whole time of their captivity. Maybe there would be something they could do on their way to wherever the Graxod were taking them. 

But of course, there wasn’t. A contingent of guards lined the way on either side with two up front and four behind them. And when they reached the place where Krelon was watching the race, something that appeared to Don to be like VIP press boxes, all of the guards stood nearby, their plantiod-crinths drawn and ready. There were monitors in front of them and on the sides. A truly televised event, Don thought darkly. Small racing space ships were more or less lined up behind what he assumed was an invisible starting line. 

“I wonder which one is Daddy’s,” Penny asked softly. She rubbed her temples, probably getting some telepathic feedback, despite her ability to block it. 

Don only figured she was trying to ‘hear’ John. 

“Your dear father has apparently decided to not run the race. I knew he was a coward,” Krelon boomed from behind them, the translator barely lagging behind the Graxod’s real words. 

Before Don could snap back a quick answer, Penny hotly said, “My Dad’s no coward, unlike you! You aren’t even out there running the race!”

“I don’t need that one,” Krelon cried out, pointing Penny out to the guards. “Dispatch her.” 

Don pulled Penny close, then pushed her behind him, while someone standing next to Krelon leaned closer and said something to the Graxod leader that they couldn’t hear. 

After a moment, Krelon fixed Penny with a glare and then he laughed. “I will take her head off first when her sire is found and dragged to me in chains.” 

Then a variety of devices announced the beginning of the race. Gazing at the monitors, Don and the others saw the racers flying into the graphics enhanced race course. Some shot forward like jack rabbits and others moved to the edge of the course, probably watching for opportunities to blow each other up. He was puzzled, though, that they weren’t shooting at each other, at least not seriously. Then it dawned on him. They were waiting for John. Krelon had most likely bribed the other racers—all of them—to get John. Maybe he had found that out and that was why he wasn’t at the starting line. However, not running the race at all wasn’t John’s style. He carried through when he made a commitment.

Then there was some excitement on the course. A black racer suddenly appeared followed by several other racers. Two of them blew up from some unknown assailant and the black racer nailed the other. “John!” he cried. 

“Yes, that’s Daddy!” Penny cried. Then she leaned toward Don. “But don’t try to reach him,” she said in a near-whisper.

With each destroyed or damaged ship, they cheered and Krelon looked more and more glum. Then someone used a tractor beam and Krelon perked up. After the black racer escaped from the beam, the racers entered the asteroid field. Various video links showed the action on that part of the race course. Several didn’t make it out. Then the half dozen or so racers that were left jetted toward the finish line, which was close to where the race had started. Several other racers joined and Josh hollered, “Not fair!” They fired on the black racer. Don wanted to echo what Josh had said, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. 

Then all the zanlings popped above their heads, squeaking furiously. Don was so shocked he couldn’t say anything. Their messages were the same from each one of them. _‘We’re going to Gamma. Going to Gamma. Take a deep breath.’ _Suddenly, there was a biting, intense cold disorientation. Almost as quickly as the disorientation began there was a return of warmth and air. They were in the Gamma colony compound, sun shining brightly overhead. Don looked around and found everyone who had been captured by Krelon. They were home!__

____

____

The zanlings lay limply on their shoulders. Jimmy Doolittle appeared pale and didn’t have enough energy to even squeak. Will ran from the Jupiter II hollering at the top of his lungs. Silverado squeaked and then disappeared. 

*****

As John zipped around asteroids, firing at the ships intent on crippling his ship, he saw that other racers were entering the course on the other side of the asteroid field. There should have only been a few ships left if not for these newcomers. He couldn’t wait any longer. “Go! All of you, go and rescue the family. Then, Silverado, if you can, return.” All popped out at the same time. 

John opened up on the nearest racer, destroying it. He couldn’t afford to play nice anymore. Obviously Krelon had not only bribed all of the pilots, but had paid others to blatantly cheat and enter the course to take him out. 

Suddenly, his communicator screamed at him, a blaring voice almost hurting his ears. “You, your family, your friends will all pay for this affront,” Krelon bellowed. 

John knew the zanlings had succeeded and he flashed a tight smile. He switched off the communicator and concentrated on what he hoped were the remaining ships. A blast rocked his racer and one of this weaponry systems indicated that it was no longer functional. The right propulsion unit was sluggish as well. He fired the left unit hard and spiraled below the racer that had attacked him. A blast from his fore-laser knocked the ship out of the race. He spiraled upward and fired point blank at another fresh ship. It disintegrated and his ship rocked slightly as it went through the debris field. 

The professor couldn’t afford to engage more ships. He had to reach the end, cross the finish lines and take care of Krelon. He powered the little ship up to max power and pushed the yoke forward as far as it could go. Another blast came too close for comfort and one of his aft stabilizers indicated damage. It was harder to hold to the course. 

Then Silverado popped back. _‘They are safe, John. All safe on Gamma!’ ___

____

____

_‘I know. I heard Krelon screaming. It was a sweet sound. Now let’s finish this.’ ___

____

____

There was almost no time to even breathe a sigh of relief. Three other ships were converging. _‘I only want to reach the finish line, Silverado. Can you add power?’_

____

____

_‘No, John. If I do, I will have no reserve energy for anything else.’ ___

____

____

_‘There won’t be anything else if I don’t cross the finish line first.’ ___

____

____

_‘These other ships will keep coming after you even after you cross the finish line.’ ___


	21. The Finish Line

John growled an epitaph learned on their travels, one that would have made him blush four years ago, then made another spiraling turn. He was almost face to face with two of the other flyers. Even before he finished turning, John had his thumb on the firing button. One of the ships blew apart and the other flew into the field of his laser. The last ship tried to turn, but John was already firing at him as well. This time his ship wasn’t maneuverable enough and the other ship was only slightly damaged. That was enough. John was at least able to use the propulsion enough to aim for the end of the course. He crossed the coordinates for the finish line and turned on the communicator again. 

“Krelon, prepare yourself. I am coming in.” 

And before any Graxod announcements of winners or anything else, he continued his sluggish turn, increased the output of the engines, and bore down on Krelon’s landing bay. “Okay, Silverado. Expose the crystal so we can both touch it.”

The zanling did so, and the crystal was sitting in his bondling’s paws. John grasped it and the zanling, and mentally formed a picture of himself and Silverado on the Graxod victory stand. They disappeared from the racing ship as it was careening inside the landing bay. The ship exploded, heavily damaging the bay. 

John stood in a large room, a group of Graxod staring at him in shock. Silverado lay limply across his shoulder, but the zanling still took the crystal that had burned hotly in John’s left hand. It assimilated before anyone noticed it. 

Several of the officials started pulling their weapons from their holsters. He jerked out his plantiod-crinth. “I won the race. Or is that a sham, too?” he demanded of Lord Commander Wrixix, the one he had communicated with before the beginning of the race. “I not only beat those officially racing, but also those others, whom I suspect were specifically paid to capture me or disable my ship. I won this contest. Are you going to deny that I did that?”

The official gazed at him another moment before motioning to the others to lay aside their arms. “No, Lord Commander. You did just as you said and you won the Milgrantiod. What is your request?”

John relaxed only slightly. “I have no doubt that if I simply requested that Krelon leave my family alone, he would figure out a way to take revenge on them sometime in the future. He managed to kidnap me and trump up a charge that landed me in a Graxod prison. He also kidnapped my family and was planning on having them executed before he executed me.” Most of the officials looked surprised, but not all. John continued, “So I am invoking rights of the Womgrantiod against Commander Krelon. For what he has done to me and to my family, I have to end this with mortal combat.” He gripped the hilt of the plantiod-crinth tighter. “I also request that those officers who served under me on the _Conquest _be reinstated to their former ranks and positions. They acted honorably as Graxod military leaders should in following the orders of their Lord Commander. There is nothing that says anything about the heritage of their commander.”__

____

____

There was a pause and all of the Graxod in the room gazed at one another. “You have not asked for the release of your family, Lord Commander Robinson. That would seem a natural request.” 

“Because that is unnecessary now, Commander. I made plans to have my family rescued during the race. And I received knowledge that they were and are safe at the present time.” John could tell the Graxod very much wanted to know how that was done, but he simply took a deep breath. 

“Very well, Lord Commander Robinson. We will deliver your challenge to Commander Krelon and escort him here for the official Womgrantiod. Your men from the Conquest will receive their pardons and be reinstated to their former positions and ranks.”

John immediately had a message sent to Pricoris. Within a short time, Mdorin and the others arrived in a shuttle, all in uniforms of their former rank. The only one missing was Mlidis. He took off in the shuttle after the others disembarked. Pronix was enthusiastic in his congratulations. The others only slightly less so. Mdorin bowed to his Lord Commander. 

“You are all to serve as my seconds when I confront Krelon,” John said, his voice tight, wondering what Mlidis was doing. He should have docked and joined them by now. 

“I do not think that will be necessary, Lord Commander,” Mdorin said, pointing toward the monitor. The shuttle Mdorin and the others had arrived in was streaking on the same path John’s ship had taken. 

“What’s he doing?” John asked. 

“Listen and it will become clear, Lord Commander.” Mdorin turned to the officials. “As a former second in command of a battle cruiser of the line, I and my fellow commanders felt it necessary to create a plan to protect our Lord Commander. Lord Commander Robinson has acted, from the beginning of his tenure in rank with only honor and the welfare of his subordinates in mind. Please see the fruition of our plan and judge for yourselves if we acted appropriately.” 

Mlidis’s voice came over the monitor. “Lord Krelon, I am bringing the human abomination for you to destroy.”

“Who is this?” That was Krelon’s voice. 

“This is Communication’s Officer Mlidis cl’ Graxod. Late of the _Conquest.” ___

____

____

“What is he doing?” John repeated almost silently, confused, but suspicion growing. Mdorin motioned him to continue listening. 

“So you have brought the Lord Commander for the execution?”

“Yes,” Mlidis answered. “He suspects nothing.”

“I will be ready,” Krelon said with a laugh. “I will be more than ready. And then your reward will be to captain my ship that I will send to destroy the human’s family.”

John, seethed, but felt the adrenalin rush from the race dying. He was drained. Not good for a womgrandiod. But as Mdorin said, and he realized now, there would be no Womgrantiod.

It was Silverado who confirmed what was going on. He had been absent for a few minutes and now he was back, again limply perched on John’s shoulder. _‘There will be no womgrantiod, John. Krelon had an ambush planned for you. I suspect your Graxod friends understood that and had a plan to stop Krelon from ever hurting you again….’_

____

____

Where John’s racer had damaged the landing bay of Krelon’s ship, Mlidis’ shuttle exploded just inside the damaged landing bay and blew the large cruiser into millions of pieces. No one could have survived that explosion. The shuttle must have been packed with explosives. 

“Mdorin, report,” John ordered. 

“Lord Commander, as you realized, you would always have had to worry about Lord Krelon and his desire for revenge, despite winning the Milgrantiod. As your loyal commanders, we could not continue on as Graxod warriors and let this happen. So we devised a plan and drew lots as to who would fly the shuttle into Lord Krelon’s ship. The lot fell to Mlidis. He fulfilled his duty with bravery and wished us to convey to you that he was honored to have served under you.”

“Thank you, Mdorin.” John had to take a deep breath. “The sacrifice is noted and will always be appreciated.” He turned to the Graxod officials. “As the first request has been taken out of my hands, I only have the second request. And I add to that a request that prison records be reviewed and those who were political prisoners should also be reinstated to their former ranks."

"I also believe that a Galactic Confederation vessel is probably waiting just outside of your solar system. I was told they would wait for the outcome of the Milgrantiod before approaching. Their only reason for being here was the fact that citizens of a member planet were being held prisoners.”

“Yes, we have had them on our screen. We will allow several of their delegates to enter our system for the sake of verifying all that has occurred,” Lord Commander Wrixix replied. “It is to your credit, Lord Commander that you were able to adapt to Graxod culture in so quick a time. It is apparent that we truly misjudged your race.”

John had no intention of disputing anything Wrixix said. “When I first began my journeys into space, I probably would not have been so adaptable. But I have to also give credit to the loyal and professional warriors who have served under me. It would be a great asset to any Graxod commander to have such loyal warriors under their command.” Whatever the Lord Commander wanted to make of his statement, mentally John was including his own family and crew. Silverado squeaked only loud enough for him to hear. 

Wrixix nodded. “Perhaps you and your crew would care for refreshment while we wait for the Confederation delegation?”

“Thank you, Lord Commander. Yes, we would.” He didn’t realize until the Graxod said something that he was hungry as well as tired, but sleep wouldn’t come until he was safely away from this venue, probably this system.

“There is also a ship arriving. It says it carries your sponsor, Pricoris the Merchant.”

_Pricoris, the pirate _, John thought would be the better title, but he definitely would have to thank him. If not for him, he’d be paste plastered on an asteroid right now and his family would be dead.__

____

____

“It would seem that Pricoris had a great deal of faith in your abilities as did your men,” Wrixix continued. “It seems he is almost the only one benefiting from your win, except for a few minor bets.” 

As they ate their refreshments, Pricoris breezed into the reception area, his red hair sticking out everywhere, but a huge grin on his round face. “I knew you could do it. I knew it!”

“That isn’t what you were saying before the race,” John reminded him with a soft laugh. “And now you get to collect.”

“Absolutely. For me and for your men, and for your spouse. Every one of your men put down a wager and they are fairly rich warriors right now. Your spouse had a small wager, as well. Mlidis’ winnings will be sent to his family.” Pricoris gave a meaningful gaze at Lord Commander Wrixix. Wrixix nodded. 

“Maureen bet on me, too?”

Pricoris nodded. “Oh, and by the way, I have a prize for your win as well.”

“You do?” John wondered what this shark had in mind now. 

“Oh, yes. I knew that once you had actually flown that racer, you’d want one of your own, so one of the other space craft, rather than being a dummy racer, was outfitted exactly as the one you flew was. And it’s yours.”

John almost choked on the drink he was sipping. “What?”

“It will be a valuable asset on your colony, Professor, er, Lord Commander.”

“Thank you, Pricoris.”

“And while I am here, Lord Commander Wrixix, perhaps we can discuss the new contract for Graxod warrior leave on my asteroid….” He and the Graxod sauntered away from the group.

John turned to Mdorin. “I want to thank you for your help. With all those extra racers, I needed all the help I could get.”

“It was your skill and determination that decided the win. And we knew you’d win, Lord Commander.”

John unclipped the plantiod-crinth and handed it to Mdorin. “Again, this is yours. I really don’t want to get in the habit of doing this.”

Mdorin and the others laughed. “It would be an honor to continue to serve under you, but I know you are not a warrior.”

John appreciated the acknowledgement and he appreciated Maureen’s overwhelming and happy greeting when he finally made it back to Pricoris’ ship accompanied by Prowlith. “I told you I would come back.”

“So did Mdorin, but I had no idea of their plans. I am very grateful to all of them. And to Pricoris.”

He was too busy smothering her in kisses to reply.


	22. Epilogue

“We are ready to make the hyperspace jump to your home,” Prowlith said with a lilting purr in her voice. 

“I am looking forward to a very peaceful summer,” John replied. “And fall, winter, spring, summer…. Well, you get the idea.”

“I think it would be good to arrive in your new space craft,” Maureen suggested, her eyes shining with excitement. “Once we get into the Gamma system.”

“I wish there was room for you to fly in with me, too.”

“No, John, this is your ship, earned by your prowess and bravery. I will come on Commander Prowlith’s shuttle.”

John hugged her and headed down to the launch bay. Sitting serenely, looking exactly as his other craft did before the race, John knew this one would be able to do everything the other did as well. He only hoped it wouldn’t have to. 

Silverado popped into the room, squeaking happily, flying loop-de-loops. _‘Going home!’ ___

____‘I thought that’s where you came from.’ _ ____ _ __

_____‘ _No, zanling planet is where I must go occasionally. Where you and the rest of the family lives is home. _’ ____ _ _ _ __

________‘I have to agree, Silverado. Let’s go home.’ _ _He pulled the black environmental suit out of a storage bin and slipped it on. The helmet was sitting on the seat. He put that on and hooked it to the suit. Then he slid in, this time in happy anticipation. Silverado perched on his shoulder and John closed the hatch.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

________“ _Clawed Deliverer _, this is _Ganymede 2 _, requesting permission to depart.”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You are granted permission and are clear to depart at any time. Good journey and safe landing, Lord Commander John Robinson.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________John would be glad to leave that appellation behind. “Thank you, Clawed Deliverer, and please convey to Commander Prowlith my thanks for conveying us home.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You are most welcome, Professor Robinson,” Prowlith responded. “May we meet again under more sedate circumstances.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You are welcome to visit at any time, Prowlith. Ganymede 2 out.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________John did a brief preflight and then engaged the engines. Soon he was speeding toward the home he had dreamed of for more years now than he could count. There was a bit of rockiness in the upper atmosphere and then he was making out the continents and oceans. He winged toward the southern hemisphere named, temporarily, Gamma 1. Now that there were colonists, now that there was peace, there’d have to be a naming contest of some kind, John thought._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Gamma Base, this is _Ganymede 2 _, requesting permission to land.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“How original, John!” came Don’s voice. “Welcome home and bring that sweet little ship into the main landing site.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________With a laugh, John did just that and was surprised to see the entire colony near the field. In a feel good mood, he did a flyover and then a looping turn. He applied the forward thrusters to brake and landed with only the barest puffs of dust. The canopy was hardly raised before Penny had leaped into his arms._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Oh, Daddy, we were so afraid for you. That nasty Krelon.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“He’s dead. He won’t bother us again, Princess.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________By then the others had gathered around and John was plied with congratulations and questions. Will looked briefly askance at his suit and John realized it vaguely matched that of the suit his anti-matter double had worn. “Everything is perfectly fine, Will. For a change.” And he grabbed his son in a bear hug. “I heard you did a fine job of holding down the fort and protecting the colony when the others were kidnapped.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I tried, Dad.” There were unshed tears in his eyes. “I was really worried about you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“It turned out all right, son. We are all together and won’t be separated again. You mom is coming on Prowlith’s shuttle shortly.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“John, Earth wants to talk to you as soon as you can,” Don told him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Some things never change, do they?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“John,” Esther called. “Tell them to be quick about it, because we have a celebration planned for this evening. The kids ordered marshmallows and chocolate bars and the last cargo ship brought ten cases of each.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Smores? And you plan on using those survival crackers for graham crackers? You’ve got to be kidding.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“No, graham crackers came on the previous ship.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________John laughed and watched in anticipation as a small shuttle landed near his racer. His wife and Prowlith exited. Maureen received a generous amount of hugs and kisses as well. Together they went to the communications shed and John made the call. There was the many second span of time before he was answered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Colonel Robinson! Glad to hear you’re well,” a voice he recognized responded._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Jerry? Jerry Crenshaw? What, they put you on communications now?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I heard you were returning to Gamma and I put myself on communications. Basically, we are just wanting to know the status of the colony.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“The colony is just fine, Jerry. Our defenses have been beefed up, we have a treaty worked out between the Graxod and the Galactic Confederation, and everyone here is in good spirits. Gamma Colony is alive and well and we are intending to stay that way….”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The End_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
